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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27371881">From Valley to Valley, and Onwards</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_angels_club/pseuds/wayward_angels_club'>wayward_angels_club</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Historical Western (1890s), Angst with a Happy Ending, But Really All the (Living) Parents Suck Too, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel Has All the Siblings, Castiel Has Self-Identity Issues, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean and Castiel are Emotionally Constipated, Dean gets Overly Emotional about Curtains, Dean/Cas Big Bang 2020 (Supernatural), Explicit (ish) Injury Care, Explicit Sexual Content, Gun Usage/Gunshot Wounds, Hey Siri? How Many Character can I Shoehorn into this Story?, Hurt/Comfort, I Promise this Fic isnt Crack Even with These tags, I'm a Found Family Trope Whore, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mentioned Past Relationships Only, Miscommunication/Lack of Communication, No Explicit Non Destiel, POV Alternating, Past Trauma isn't Dealt With, Past and Present Minor Character Death - Freeform, Slow Burn, Supportive Family Members I'd Simp for Include:..., Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Unnamed Main Character - and the pronoun confusion that comes with it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:22:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>117,323</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27371881</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_angels_club/pseuds/wayward_angels_club</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s good at leaving. A few minutes of resolve and he’s gone, hoping his past stays in the past. While running, a moment of desperation leads him to take residence on the Novak’s farm and a series of unfortunate events keep him there longer than he planned.</p><p>Castiel’s good at staying, never leaving home for long, never seeking new horizons. But his past still haunts him, he’s at odds with his mother, and a stranger - who seems determined to keep to himself - might be enough to change that.</p><p>For the first time in his life, he’s met with a friend, one that gives him a name of his own: Dean, and maybe a chance at a different life.</p><p>And Castiel discovers that it might be possible to have what he never thought he could.</p><p>Yet nothing’s ever so easy (for either of them). Fear, an overheard conversation, doubt, an offer Dean finds he can’t pass on, and for both, the uncertainty that comes with unforetold feelings, work to conspire against them.</p><p>The question becomes, can Dean learn to stay, and can Castiel learn to leave?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Becky Rosen/Chuck Shurley, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Others - Past, Dean Winchester/Others - Past, Donna Hanscum/Jody Mills, Gabriel/Kali (Supernatural), Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Other Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>DCBB 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Sun Leads Weary Travellers Onwards</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello and welcome to my contribution to the DCBB 2020!!</p><p>I want to preface this with a couple of things:</p><p>Firstly, this fic is loosely inspired by and based off of <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/s4mm4n/186763378087">this</a> tumblr post. You may recognize it, you may not, though it is kind of iconic. Just as a heads up the blog is flagged for sensitive content so you may have to log in to see the post.</p><p>Secondly, I want to thank more than a few people for helping me with this story, from its bare bones to its final product. This is about to look like an awards ceremony speech folks so hang on to your hats.</p><p>My beautiful friend who asked to stay nameless but who can be found <a href="https://flowersforcas.tumblr.com/">here</a> for letting me spam her messages the night I came across the post and got the inspiration, and for giving me the idea to enter into the DCBB in the first place.</p><p>My incredible <a href="https://unanimous-anonymous.tumblr.com/">artist</a> unanimous-anonymous who, even while writing her senior thesis, made the jaw-dropping art you see in this fic!! A complete masterpost to the art is linked right <a href="https://unanimous-anonymous.tumblr.com/post/635897906750177280/okay-yall-after-a-long-and-arduous-process">here</a> show her some love, writing a thesis isn't easy (I am in awe of her truly)!!</p><p>And my amazing <a href="https://destiel-more-like-bestiel.tumblr.com/">beta</a> Laur who worked with me to make this story all that it is now, her help was absolutely indispensable.</p><p><a href="https://universalsatan.tumblr.com/">Lucy</a> and Kirstin who listened to me day in and day out and acted as sounding boards as I wrote this, your input kept me writing whenever I hit a wall and your advice was invaluable. And finally to everyone in the DCBB authors group who answered my questions and gave me the large scale support I didn't know I needed.</p><p>This is the longest story I've ever written and without all these people it never would have happened so thank you all.</p><p>Thirdly I wanna give a shout-out to the Spanish Dub because I've ascended and it's all thanks to her 😌🥰😌. Also we are one week post Supernatural Finale so how are we all doing in the wake of that... whatever that was.</p><p>Finally, I'm still new at this whole writing thing, having only committed to it in February of this year so I do ask that you keep that in mind. I tried my best with this and I hope I did it justice.</p><p>With <em>all</em> that being said I hope you enjoy my story! ❤️❤️</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun climbs its steady path into the sky as a man trudges forward beneath its heat. Though he knows he left town that same morning before the townsfolk started rising, the wear on his body feels more like he’s been walking for days. He wipes a tanned hand across his forehead, feeling the heat as his face goes red from exertion in the sun's increasing insistence. His legs give on the terrain as he scales the shallow steep of the valley’s ridge.</p><p>The town fades into haze behind him but he refuses to watch as it does so; all that matters to him is moving forward. Leaving his past, those people, his mistakes behind him. Forging a life for himself wherever he can and maybe being fortunate enough to move on from what he’s done. A luxury he’s never been afforded, but as always, he hopes maybe this time will be different.</p><p>He doesn’t stop as dusk falls around him, nor does he pause when the animals, who don’t take too kindly to humans, begin to roam. Maybe they’re in search of food, but he hopes not. He doesn’t think he has it in him to fight. He’s got nothing with him besides a small rucksack shored up on his shoulder; the fabric roped tightly together. It cuts into his skin through his shirt as it swings with his steps. God willing it doesn’t get bad. If it does, he’ll need help somehow, and who knows how he’ll manage that.</p><p>Some days he can still feel the phantom pain around his body from injuries left just a bit too long without being dealt with. The memories cause something to clench in his chest, the worry he’d felt still fresh even years later.</p><p>He ignores the pain as best as he can, ignores the quiet of the night as it’s punctured with sounds of lord-knows-what and he settles himself against a tree for the night. He has no desire to stop and rest, keen to put distance between him and the town, but his body refuses to move forward.</p><p>He dreams as he does most nights. Dreams of blood and tears; screams echoing through his head joined by flashes of scenes he’d hoped he would have forgotten by now. The threats thrown at him root fear deep in his chest.</p><p>He wakes to a sheen of sweat clinging to his body as the sun climbs into the pale sky. Branches of a tree dissect the gentle blue of it, creating lines that don’t waver except by the wind.</p><p>He continues walking for some time, pausing only to divert down the rush of a valley he’s never known existed. Resolutely he keeps his mind from straying to what he’s left behind; <em>who</em> he’s left behind without even a word of warning. He reminds himself that he did what was necessary, and damn whatever comes next because he made the right choice when he decided to pack his pitiful life up and move on. The guilt still gets to him, anyways.</p><p>As the sun moves past its highest point and begins its slow, hours long descent west, he stumbles upon a broken-down fence line. The wiring is mangled and looks as though it’s been trampled, but he can’t begin to figure out by what. The wooden posts have been felled or broken as far as he can see with the sun making mirages on the brush. But, he reasons, a fence line could mean a house, or perhaps a farm.</p><p>A part of him warns against what he knows his next move will be. Stopping for any length of time could be a death sentence, but he’s been walking for a day and a half and has reasonably covered nearly forty miles of terrain. He’s spent his life running, hiding in some way or another and he knew how hired patrols would search if they decided to come for him. So he’d done the opposite, hoping to give himself a bit more time if anyone in town felt he was worth the trouble of going after.</p><p>A few days on this property, a hot meal, possibly a place to sleep in exchange for some labour work, is a risk for sure, but it’s also a necessity. He foolishly left with no food or water and has no way of knowing how long he’ll be walking before he finds another place to settle.</p><p>He reasons that he’ll work, heal, and rest up a bit, and eventually pack up and leave again before anyone misses him. A few days; a week at most before he puts this land behind him and carries on.</p><p>He keeps his path and walks onto the property moving slower than before. The possibility of rest and shelter weighs down his bones and makes his steps heavier, like they know he doesn’t have to rush so much anymore. His limbs feel leaden as he thinks of the nearing ability to sit and relax, and most importantly, to eat.</p><p>He walks through the property until the sun has taken to bleeding into the treetops. It takes less time than that to spot the house. Pretty might be the best word for it, with clean white walls; nothing like he’s ever seen before on a house. The buildings he grew up around were always brown, except the city halls.</p><p>Past the house, he can see stables among other buildings and hopes that the owner keeps a string of horses. Beyond that, quite a ways, is the hazy outline of another town. He reckons it might be his next stop, though the distance seems daunting now.</p><p>He stops as a horse approaches in the distance. The rider shouts at him but is still too far off to make sense of the words. So he waits, placating, passive, and unassertive. As the rider nears he puts on his prettiest face; the face that he knows people like most. It gets him things—food mostly; or sometimes a bed for a night, it’s gotten him a job once or twice in the past too—and it’s enough to distract from the scars that litter his face. This mask of an expression hides the truth of him better than any words could.</p><p>The man reaches him and dismounts but keeps a hand on the reins. He’s reasonably short and stands unassumingly, but he can see something in the man's eyes that shows he’s not to be pushed around. The man vaguely reminds him of his father, or what little of him he can remember. An old fear creeps its way down his spine, which straightens without his permission.</p><p>“What’s your name boy?” the man asks, eyes wary still but kinder than they had been.</p><p>He looks down, bereft. He had hoped the man would start with a question he could answer; hoped he could make a good impression before the sour truth was shared.</p><p>“I ain't got none, sir, on account of my mama passin’ before she could give me one.” It's only partially true but it’s all this man will be getting from him.</p><p>“Well, I'm real sorry to hear that,” the man offers, looking around the area. “Now, what can I do for you? Folks ‘round here don’t always take too kindly to strangers walking on their land but you’ve got nothing more than that sack there so I ain’t goin’ to chase you out. But you best answer honestly.” The look in the man’s eyes that speaks of hardened, ruthless resolve returns as he listens and grows nervous. To tell this man the truth is a death sentence, but to keep it may be one as well.</p><p>“Sir, I—” he begins quietly. “I can’t read, nor even write, either, but I sure am mighty good with horses, and I’m plenty strong so I can mend them broken fence posts and lines out-a-ways. And I swear I don’t need nothing more than a hot meal and a warm place to sleep.” He’s being truthful; keeping the lies to a minimum is his best option here. Getting caught in the web of them all is what’s gotten him into trouble all his life.</p><p>The rider sizes him up, and he can’t help but fidget slightly under the weight of his gaze.</p><p>“Boy, if you’re working here you’ll be earning a keep,” he tosses out gruffly. “I can’t say that it’ll be much, but I ain’t having people here with nothing more than room and board as payment. That said, I’ve got a barn out back by the house. It’s got a cleared stable in it, so for now you’ll sleep there.”</p><p>He’s not unaware of the fact that his host never gave his name, but he supposes he’ll not be needing it anyhow as ‘Sir’ seems to be acceptable.</p><p>The man walks him to the barn, and as they pass the main house he catches the faces of several young children in one of the windows. He notes with some surprise that not all of the man’s children match his light skin tone, but he makes no comment on it, sure that if he was meant to know why he would be told.</p><p>He watches the small faces for a short time before taking in more of the house. He moves his gaze up to the second storey where he sees a flash of movement as a person leaves from the sill of a window.</p><p>His host lets him set up and goes to the house to fetch a blanket and a small pillow for him. When he comes back, he sets about explaining the rules of the property.</p><p>“I rise at dawn, so I expect you to do so, too if not sooner. Don’t worry, the roosters will wake you in time for that. Breakfast will be then, but you best eat it quickly. The horses set about all day and’ll need taking care of. Most all the other animals we’ve got here are left to themselves. I’ll be giving you Remy, here, for when you go to fix up the property, so make sure you get comfortable with her before that.” He pats the black horse that he had ridden out on as he goes on, “The wash closet is off the back entrance, use it as you need to. My boy will be out after supper to give you some food. Just sit tight till then."</p><p>He hears the squeals of excited children not long after the man finishes his instructions and leaves.</p><p>If he ever had a reason to make sounds like that, he doesn’t remember it.</p><p>He sets his eyes at the house. It surely is a pretty little thing although ‘little’ may be the wrong way to describe it. A woman looks through a window at the barn, at him; but can hardly see him through the barriers between them. She's peeking through curtains strung up on the frame; real dainty, white and sewn, nothing like he’s ever had, or will ever have. He can see the curious young faces again in a window, desperate for information on the newcomer but forced to stay inside by their father.</p><p>He can’t blame them, really; if he’d had the option to prioritize safety back in the day whenever a debt had been collected or a deal settled, no matter the likelihood of it going south he would have made Sam stay as far away from the whole ordeal as possible. His father taught him young to protect his family. ‘One job, boy,’ he’d always say. ‘Keep him safe.’ His stomach churns remembering how often he failed.</p><p>He walks up to Remy while he waits for the son to come out with his meal. Her coat is nearly pristine, her mane untangled and her hooves clean and properly kept. She’d be able to win just about anything, and he would be willing to bet that she already has.</p><p>He doesn't bother unpacking, not having the possessions he would need to do so, choosing instead to sit and wait for his meal.</p><p>He hears a creak of a door and steady footfalls coming towards the barn. They falter as they get closer, but only for a step before they recover. He stands quickly, not wanting to offend the man before he’s gotten his food.</p><p>A thrum of nerves takes root in his chest as the man gets closer. He despises having to wait like this. He feels like he’s completely at the mercy of the person walking towards him. It sets his teeth on edge and his fists clench at his sides of their own accord.</p><p>The man pauses at the still-open door to the barn and knocks against the wood as though he thought he might be indisposed. Just as he begins to say, “Come in?” the man rounds the door and he finds himself stock-still at the sight of him.</p><p>He’s dressed in clothes he’s only seen on well-off folks before, his shirt and trousers, much above the label of work clothes that he exclusively wears. What’s more, the fabric is free of dirt, blood, or liquor. He stands with an air of authority but the uncertainty of his gait tells him that’s a show.</p><p>The man's hair catches his eye because, for all his composure, his hair is a mess, strands group together, sticking up as though he rakes his fingers through it several times an hour. And he’s struck with the intense desire to do just that, to learn what it feels like, but he silences the thought.</p><p>He’s seen a lot of people in his life and met all sorts of folks, but this man blows them all out of the water. Pretty isn’t the right word for him; he seems stronger than ‘pretty’ could express, but he’s sure as can be that he’s never come across a man as gorgeous as this one.</p><p>His eyes are dark, hooded by his brows, and the glow of his lantern does little to light them in the darkness of the barn. But he wants to see them, to know if they have the same all-consuming nature as the rest of the man does.</p><p>In the man’s hands is a small basket, and his stomach riots at the sight of the food he notices inside.</p><p>He tries not to seem overly eager when the man sets the basket and lantern down, thanking him before he sits down and begins. As he digs into some bread and the potatoes from the meal, he pauses, looking up because the son is still standing there, the show of propriety all but gone, his shoulders slump forward slightly and his face is marred with a look of uncertainty, though his brow is set with a quizzical stance.</p><p>He hates being the only one sat on the ground when around other people, strangers especially, it makes him vulnerable, exposed, an easy target, but it’s not like he could stand to eat. Even with the man looking less superior he still bristles at the unbalance. He’s just set about eating again when the man speaks.</p><p>“You’re new.” He stops entirely, suppressing a small shudder at the voice the man owns, low and rough as though he isn’t used to using it. “My pa doesn’t often bring in new people to the farm. That's why my siblings have been spyin’ on you since you arrived. I wouldn’t be surprised if some are still looking.”</p><p>He isn't sure what he is supposed to say so he flicks his eyes up before fixing them on the ground.</p><p>“He says that’ll you’ll be staying to help ‘round the farm? Ever since my older siblings left, I've had to set my studies back to work. I’m glad that I can go back to my lessons with some focus.”</p><p>He wants to ask what his name is, but doesn’t, content to keep them on the same level for now, two nameless strangers.</p><p>Instead he says, “I came from a way’s over, felt it time to move on.” around a mouthful of food. His company has a kind smile and way about him that he enjoys a lot after nearly two days of travelling alone.</p><p>The man begins to offer up information about himself freely, as though he’s never met a person who could use such information against him. Never met a person with a vendetta or a price on their heads.</p><p>“My older siblings have gone off, most right into marriage, but I hope I’ll be going to school soon. My younger brothers are all under eleven, they are getting closer to working-age but until then I should stay and help here,” he says almost as though he’s trying to convince himself as well. He still looks unsure of himself. His continued silence is likely not helping to ease the tension that has settled in the barn so he tells the man a bit about himself.</p><p>“I’ve got a younger brother too,” he starts, digging his nails into his palm to get ahead of the emotions that already threaten to overwhelm him. “He lives far enough away that I don’t see him much but my pay goes to him, he’s studying now too.”</p><p>“Just the one?” he says, not catching on to his pain. “What’s his name?”</p><p>“Sammy—Sam.” He’s quickly losing the battle against his emotions, and anger simmers below the surface aimed at this stranger who asks too many questions and yet at the same time a feeling creeps up on him, there is something about this man whose name he doesn't yet know, something that steadies him in the oddest way but still he grits his teeth to stop from doing anything foolish. He knows how to get by without notice, to live life without being known, how to stay safe and so far, he’s been content to do such. To avoid saying any more he continues eating, but the food has lost most of its appeal.</p><p>“I’ve got thirteen brothers and sisters, I bet it’s nice not to have your parents calling you all types of names that aren’t your own,” he says with a glance back at the house, he can’t tell but the man looks troubled somehow, his eyes dark, not from the dim lighting, but from something deeper inside him.</p><p>The man hasn’t chosen to sit or walk further than the entry to the barn standing less than calmly at the door frame instead. And he wishes he would, just as much as he wants him to leave and head back to the house. Everything about him is conflicted, it unsettles him, for so long he never had to question what he wanted.</p><p>He debates his next words carefully, this man doesn’t seem to know about the power of information, he’s clean of the scum that is a life like his. He seems like he wants to know about him, wants the story about the newcomer. He’s kept in it so long he isn't sure he can even voice anything but he wants to in a perverse way.</p><p>His story won’t ever be told, his life will never be written in books, and when he dies, it dies with him and he knows that that might be sooner rather than later. To be known, to be seen and found in more than just his own mind is tempting.</p><p>He looks back at the face of the man, shadows fall across it, defining its hills and valleys like a map, but his face is open and pure and he feels like he could be trusted with this, trusted with at least parts of the truth. He's not sure what it is about this man but the last time he felt this way was with Sam.</p><p>“I don’t know much ‘bout that Sir, my mama and father both died when I was young, I wasn’t quite eight when my father was killed and my mama died the day Sam was born; a candle got knocked clean over and set the house up in flames. I was just over four when she passed on.” He doesn’t wait to hear the reaction from the man. He knows what kind of stuff comes out of a man's mouth when they’ve never known pain. It's always pity, and he hates being pitied. “I’ve been on my own with Sam since then, a kindly lady opened her shed to us on the harsh nights when we were first on our own but that’s about all the free help we got.”</p><p>The man is quiet for a time, but when he speaks it’s not sympathy he gets. “Call me Castiel, I’ve never liked Sir, it’s too stiff. My father prefers it to Charles but I do not,” he says.</p><p>He feels foolish having to ask but he knows without the help he won’t have a chance to say it and he doesn’t want to upset this man.</p><p>“Sorry Sir,” he stops and shakes his head as he breaks the only rule he made. “But I’m not sure if I can do that.” He tries to fight instinct but he can feel himself getting smaller under the gaze of a man with so much more than him, “I—well it's a bit of an odd name, I mean no disrespect of course, it's just that there's a good reason I named Sam, Sam y’see...” He leaves the sentence hanging hoping the man can fill in the end of it. He recounts every time in his life he has come across someone whose name he couldn’t use, most of the time he would make a name for them, but this man was essentially his boss and he knows better than to do that for him.</p><p>“In that case call me Cas.”</p><p>“Okay Cas,” he says and his chest does something funny at the sight of the smile Cas makes when he uses his name.</p><p>“Do you have a name at all?” Of course this question would come, it always does but that doesn’t stop the curl of acid in his stomach, the one that speaks of shame in a way nothing else has.</p><p>“No, my father only referred to me as ‘boy’ but I know that's not a name,” he pauses and eats more waiting on Cas’ response before he shares more, but he says nothing, he simply waits for him to finish with the bite and so he continues. “I named Sammy when I was a kid to get him in the schoolhouses. But when we lost my mama the fire took the house with her and our records were lost so I never had a name that I can recall.”</p><p>“Would you like a name?” Cas asks peering down at him.</p><p>“Of course I would, but I can’t just pick one. Names are suppose’ to mean more than that.” He’s only ever had this type of conversation with Sam before. No one else ever seemed to care one way or the other if he had a name to call himself by.</p><p>“My father may expect a name for the books, the records for the farm are quite detailed. Is there anything we could call you by, just for the books?” Cas questions and he’s struck with a memory from years ago.</p><p>“Winchester, Si—Cas, that can be how you write me into the books,” he says half-smiling in the low light, Sam’s laugh echoing in his head as he thinks back to the sun on his neck the buzzing in his ears and the hot metal of a rifle in his hands.</p><p>“Winchester like the rifle maker?”</p><p>“That’s right, me and Sammy found one in the brushes off a ways from town one day, when he was a kid he always liked to imagine he’d be a counsellor one day, the time we found the gun, he wanted to, and I’m speaking right from his mouth, ‘take the law into his own hands’, I had to manhandle him away from it before he picked it up and shot it.” He doesn’t mention that he went back to get the gun that same night, doesn’t mention that he used it for a time. Instead he says, “It’s the name I used on his school forms too way back when… I’d almost forgotten I’d done that.”</p><p>He worries about how much he might give away to Cas, his pure face may give the hope of trust but real trust needs to be earned no matter how his chest yearns for this man to know him and so he shuts down his storytelling and flips it to Cas, “Your siblin’s ever done something heart-stopping like that?” Scooping the last few bites of food off his plate and using the last bit of bread to gather the sauce he grimaces at the cool temperature of the once hot meal but eats regardless.</p><p>“We never got to leave the farm much growing up, had our chores, our school work too, and with so many of us we didn’t need to venture from the property to find something to fill the day,” Cas says, glancing back at the house before stepping further into the barn. “My ma and pa were busy folks when we were all young, still are, truth be told, so my older brothers and sister would create games for us and we would play with the animals around the farm. As they got older my ma kept pushin’ for them to get married, leave home and start families, follow the plan God set out for them, make something of themselves,” Cas pauses, kicking a small puff of dirt with the toe of his shoe. “She’s set those sights on me now, she’ll have any number of young women come in from towns all over, she won’t listen when I say I don’t want to get married, that I don’t want a wife.”</p><p>When he looks up at Cas he again wishes for better light in the barn, so that he could see his face better because there's a haunted look in his eyes, and in the set of his face that he thinks he knows all too well.</p><p>“Well I ain't ever had a ma tellin’ me to find ‘a nice girl and settle down’ but I can’t think it’s too much fun if you don’t want that life,” he says to keep from looking too far into what that face could mean.</p><p>“I want to learn,” Cas says without prompting, looking just past him, “I want to go off to school, or even to a job, and just be more than a farmer's son.” Cas sounds as though he's lost in another world, where he has all that he wants and he knows that feeling well; sometimes that feeling is all that keeps him sane.</p><p>“Here, have some of this, I love my ma regardless but she ain’t the best cook,” Cas says snapping back to himself. He steps closer and pulls a flask from his pocket and tosses it the rest of the distance before retreating back to the door and leaning against it. He must be able to see his reproachful expression at the retreat because he says, “Ma and Pa would have my hide if I dirtied my dinner clothes.” He nods as though he knows what that’s like.</p><p>He lifts the flask to his mouth, all too aware that Cas is watching him the whole time and takes a long swig, the whiskey burning its way down his throat and settling not unpleasantly in his stomach. His eyes catch Cas flicking his gaze to his throat as it works another swallow of the liquor down and his heart quickens when Cas leans his head against the door frame. Almost like it's too much of a chore to keep supported and a different heat pools in his stomach, he’s saved from making any rash decisions, from giving in and following that heat as he has in the past, by a discordant call from who he assumes is Cas’ ma, Cas leans back at his waist to peak at the house grabbing the door frame for stability and he can’t help as his eyes trail down Cas’ form, and his mouth runs a bit dry at the power he can tell Cas’ legs hold, at the solid strength of his middle, and the sharp angle of his jaw. He takes another quick sip from the flask, hoping, but failing, to do so before Cas turns back, and he can’t tell for the distance but he thinks he sees a smirk on the man's face.</p><p>Cas walks further into the barn and he realizes he’s coming to get his flask back, standing and brushing some of the dirt off his pants he walks up to Cas with it—and the basket—in hand and the fire lights low in his stomach when the man tracks his eyes down his body before raising them up again. Cas’ head tips to the side a bit on the parse of his frame and he can feel a subtle heat rush to his face.</p><p>Handing Cas the flask he ensures his distance from him, not trusting himself to keep his decorum if he gets too close to. It almost seems intentional, though he doesn't know on whose part, that their fingers brush against each other and he has to suppress a shudder at the feeling that hits him. He’s never been struck by lightning but he reckons it must feel a bit like this. He drops his hand once Cas has the flask trying to shake out the lingering feeling of Cas’ skin against his, trying to forget the roughness of his farm worn fingers and the warmth they held against his.</p><p>Cas’ eyes catch his own and holds them as he brings the flask up to his lips and he feels that tug again low in his belly as Cas tips his head back, not breaking their eye contact, and takes a slow sip, his throat working over the burning liquor, the way Cas is looking at him, the way he is making a show of the shared flask makes him think that it might not be the whiskey he’s trying to savour.</p><p>His ma calls again from the porch and the tension that had settled around them shatters. He watches as Cas sends him one more look as he pauses before turning at the frame of the door and flashes him a shy smile before disappearing into the darkness. A few seconds later he can hear talking but the volume is too low to make out what either is saying. The screen door clatters against its frame and everything is silent once again, different from the night before but no less distracting.</p><p>He closes the barn door and says a weak goodnight to Remy before settling for the night. His hand touches cold metal as it slips into his pack as he reaches for his spare clothes, but he decides against changing his shirt or pants so he tosses the bag within arms reach. The blanket is large enough to act as a barrier from the floor and as a cover and once he’s between the layers he created he reaches out and extinguishes the lantern.</p><p>Sleep evades him for some time as his mind betrays him, straying to Cas and the signals he got from the man, as sure as they were hesitant.</p><p>He wonders what it's like in Cas’ house if he feels as though he is at home and safe in its walls. He wonders if Cas is happy. He wonders why he seems to care.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>All direct plot content from the post ends in this chapter (though content from it continues, ie. the flask and the lack of name). The majority of the plot from here on out was concocted in a frenzied late-night text conversation with my friend, 70% of the plot was formulated in about an hour or so which is the fastest I've ever come up with a nearly complete story outline.</p><p>Also, I wanted to address the fact that yes Cas has siblings who aren't white, this will be explained in the next chapter and then further talked about as the story progresses (in Cas' chapters (3, 6, and 9) most notably). Rest assured that nothing fucked up happened to result in non-white children being part of their family I can promise that.</p><p>And if you'd like you can find me on tumblr <a href="https://wayward-angels-club.tumblr.com/">here</a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Memories of a Life Left in the Dust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I would like to quickly say that I know almost nothing about raising, training, or taking care of horses and as such (even though no one would) do not take what you see here as advice about horses.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He wakes, as Charles said, to the crowing of the roosters and sighs, stretching the stiffness from his body. Remy makes a huffing noise a few stalls over, it seems she’s an early riser as well. He realizes belatedly that she is the only animal sharing this space and figures this must be a storage barn of sorts. He hadn't gotten a good look at the property the day before, content to only take notice of the house, barn, and stables, not registering the possible uses of the other buildings.</p><p>He’s a touch unsure about his actual duties for the day, so he waits outside the barn door, in view of the house, for Charles to come out. He doesn't wait long before he can hear the door open and Charles emerges from the house, he doesn’t know if he should feel upset or not at the fact that he is alone.</p><p>“Mornin’ boy. I hope you got a good night's rest there because we’ve got a good bit of work to do today. For the next couple days I'll be getting you familiar with the property, but for now, eat,” Charles says as he hands a bowl of what he assumes is porridge into his hands and heads back inside. About ten minutes later he returns and without much more than a word Charles begins walking, he follows closely, concerned about making a poor impression.</p><p>“Today’s all about you learning the way about things here, your responsibilities and the like.”</p><p>He chooses not to correct Charles about his assumptions on his length of stay, if it comes to it, he’ll just slip out during the night leaving them none the wiser.</p><p>“It’s pretty straight forward work, feeding the animals, working on the horses, that kind of thing, you’ll be needing tools and such for the fence work but I want you to do that tomorrow or the day after. Today we’ll be heading to the livestock for checks.” Ahead of them is a second barn, this one more suited for housing animals than the one he’s staying in. A pen extends out from the side of it and troughs line the enclosed outside wall.</p><p>Charles shows him the steps for the chickens, pigs, and the few cattle they have before walking him to the stables.</p><p>“Remy is our main horse. She doesn’t do much in terms of farm work but we have eight others here for work like that. Including our foal, he’ll be needing caring for, but he’s not been a trouble much yet. Now Ringer over there,” Charles says pointing to the far end of the stable, “is a stubborn son of a bitch, for the time being, stay away from him, we haven’t managed to break him in yet despite him being nearly three.” He nods and Charles continues, “Let's run you through some of the horse care to see if you can work with them like you said you can.”</p><p>The rest of his day is spent with Charles, his nerves dissipate as the day stretches, shadows growing long on the dirt, by day end he has been taken through the mornings and afternoons for all the animals and been tested on his ability to groom the horses, although he wasn’t asked to do hoof or shoe work; he suspects that will be asked of him tomorrow.</p><p>He’s got his own pair of riding gloves tucked into the supply area in the stables and though Charles is less than pleased with his shoes he says that they’ll be fine for him to work in as long as he is aware of his footing. He doesn't plan on staying long enough for his footwear to be a hindrance but he doesn’t mention it, not wanting the hospitality of the family to stop if they learn he’ll be gone in a couple days.</p><p>Charles is the one to deliver the meal that night and he again doesn't know how to feel about that. Nerves pinch at the sides of his mind that he had read the night before wrongly and that Cas was not acting as he thought he was, and that now he was being avoided at all costs to not engage further with a man who may have been too forward in his actions. Is he going to be discovered in such a way now? But that look Cas had given him, the way his smile formed when he had been caught staring, does that not prove at least that Cas found the attention flattering if misplaced?</p><p>The following morning he rises again with the roosters call, and again waits outside of the barn for Charles to lead him through more of his responsibilities, he may not have a plan to stay here for long but he knows that it would be far more suspicious to ditch his work or seem as though it isn’t important to him.</p><p>It’s not long before Charles comes out of the house again, but this morning he’s followed by Cas. He can’t help the fluttering in his stomach or the way he feels his body heat up at the glint in the man's eyes. Nervous energy runs through him at what Cas’ presence could mean, his mind briefly flashes to Cas having outed him to his father and that this was a quick conversation at best and a ruining one at worst.</p><p>He tries his best to school his expression as he walks forwards to meet them knowing that to react would be to condemn himself before the truth is even brought up, and addresses Charles.</p><p>“Good morning Sir.” He nods at Cas, unsure if he is to address him the same way given his apparent dislike for the honorific.</p><p>“Morning, right well, change of plans are in order, I have to head to town today with one of my girls to take her to see a doctor, as such Castiel will be the one you follow today.” He steals a glance at Cas but the man isn’t paying him any mind. Instead, he is looking behind him at the stables before he turns back and looks to his father for further instructions.</p><p>He doesn’t know if Cas is being purposely avoidant or not or if he regrets any of his actions from his first night. Worry curls itself around his chest. He decides that he will act as he would with anyone else, respectful and definitely showing no interest in anything other than an acquaintanceship. It is foolish anyways, his time on the farm will be brief, he doesn’t need to go about forging relationships; his life is not one that lends itself to friends, or to partners of any kind.</p><p>“I trust that you remember what we went over yesterday?”</p><p>“Yes Sir.”</p><p>“Good, I'll be back by sundown, and I expect the work round here done before then, understand?”</p><p>He and Cas answer at the same time, Cas with “Yes Pa.” and him with an “Of course Sir.” and though he doesn’t turn to confirm it he thinks he sees Cas focus his stare on him for just a moment.</p><p>By the time he’s eaten breakfast, supplied again by Charles, Remy is ready for travel.</p><p>Charles leaves with the girl in a cab Remy pulls. As the dust settles to the ground, he feels a tension settle around the two of them but Cas doesn’t seem to feel it.</p><p>“My father wants you to get familiarized with our equipment today, you’ve been to the livestock barn and the stables so we’ll head there to do the chores now, working together we should be able to get them done with enough time to go through all of our machines,” Cas says looking out across the land in the direction his father went off in.</p><p>He nods, catching Cas’ eye before they both turn and walk towards the barn, the work is mostly separate, Cas at one end tending to the pigs him at the other cleaning stalls. The day’s cloudy, a slight rarity in the area but the heat of the day is as strong as the last week; sweat clings to his back and hairline causing his mind to focus on the feeling while he’s unable to do anything about it.</p><p>Unbidden a memory surfaces, he’s twelve, Sam barely eight and the latter has just come home from school with a trick to show him, it's blazing hot in the valley, far too hot for him not to be sweating but Sam shows no signs of issue with the heat.</p><p>Sam tells him to put his hands behind his back and he wraps a brush stock around his wrists and tells him that he can't break them no matter what, with a wide grin Sam tells him that he can make things come true with him trapped like this, and being the good big brother that he was he plays along, arguing that Sam can’t make him do anything but lets the trick go on. Sam looks him dead in the eye and asks, “Your nose is itchy isn’t it?” and just like that an annoyingly apparent itch spreads across his nose and down the curve of his nostrils and his eyes begin to water from the feeling. He wiggles his nose back and forth trying in vain to scratch it somehow.</p><p>The memory makes him smile, remembering how Sam’s smile had spread when he saw that the trick worked how proud of himself he had been, before it quickly changes, flashing into the sickening crunch of bone and a splatter of blood that drips and pools like a curse, like the clearest sign of failure on the ground. The panic claws at him again, phantom pain pours over him and he has to actively think of healed smiles again, eyes that shine despite the yellow surrounding them. A violent nausea settles in his stomach, so much so that he has to clench his jaw against the tightening of his throat.</p><p>He remembers how he felt when that prickle of an itch sprouted when he couldn’t do anything about it. He finds himself in that same position now, except along with the vague itch of the drying sweat and the tickle of the drops running down the back of the neck, both of which he is too busy to take care of, he feels eyes on him and he has to fight against the instinct telling him to turn and find whoever is causing the tension in his body. He knows it must be Cas, animals have never caused the feeling to be this strong before but refuses to raise himself up from his hunched position to check.</p><p>Even if he did there was nothing about the situation that would be worth it, either Cas is looking at him or he isn’t and his mind is playing tricks on him—perhaps punishing him for even starting to get the slightest bit comfortable in this place—if Cas is looking at him there's no conversation that could follow that would be worth anything, good or bad. So he breathes out a sigh and focuses on his work, determined to let the feeling fade into the back of his mind.</p><p>Cas however seems to have different plans; he finishes his chores faster than it takes him to muck the stalls so he joins him in the work. Grabbing the extra fork, he enters the stall and shoots him a small smile.</p><p>“So tell me, why’s it that you had to leave where you lived? Most folks I know are born, live, and die within the same county limits. And if they do leave, they’ve got a plan already in place but I get the feeling that isn't the case for you, is it?”</p><p>“You ask a lotta questions to a man you don't know. Some people like to keep their business to themselves don’t they?” The words have barely made it past his lips before he realizes what he’s said, what he said to his boss’ son and he blanches at his actions, “Sir I—I’m very sorry for how I spoke just now, it was beyond disrespectful and it won’t happen again.” He might not care for this job, he might not care for making solid impressions on this family but if he’s learned one thing from his life, it’s that you respect those around you, especially if they are of a higher standing. Besides he’s not keen on landing himself a few new scars and there’s no telling how folks may react to disrespect.</p><p>“Hey now, no need to apologize here, I tend to make conversation if I'm going to be spending the next ten hours with a person. It makes the time go by faster.” Cas offers another smile and his stomach flips at the sight. “And you gotta stop calling me Sir, I really do hate the way it sounds.”</p><p>He grumbles lowly, Cas is just too green, a curious man with a new subject, he doesn’t care for the answers he gets, he doesn’t seem to know to share the information around and harm his already damaged reputation. That same feeling from the first night settles in him again, he wants to be known by someone, his trust in the man comes back as unfounded as before but just as strong. And just as it had, it scares him, but he ignores his better judgement.</p><p>“There was nothin’ left for me there, I couldn't get a job, well at least I couldn't find a place to take on the risk. Figured it’s best to make a clean break,” he says, not looking up from the floor. Cas joins in with the scooping as he speaks.</p><p>Cas is silent for some time, long enough that he thinks the talking might be over with. But the man seems incapable of letting a silence stretch for too long.</p><p>“It's an odd comfort to grow up with a job already, but at the same time it's like a prison sentence, I can’t do much else now, I have almost no choice in the rest of my life. As much as it’s comforting to have this farm, I wish I had a way to do more.” He doesn’t stop shovelling as Cas speaks. “I always wanted to be a teacher, figured I’d make a pretty good one to all things considered. I taught my younger siblings when my ma was too busy to and they never complained—” Cas stops for a moment and he looks at him but the man is turned away, though his shoulders are set in a hard line. “I don't mean to complain Winchester, honest, but I don't get much of a chance to talk about this.”</p><p>His false name sounds odd coming from Cas’ mouth, as though the word itself knows that it’s not right, that he has no claim to it, no right to call it his real name. It’s not his name, never has been, never will be his first name. He’s not ever going to have one of those.</p><p>“When I was a boy, before my mama died, I have this memory of her standing over me, sayin’ that I could be anything, I figure you could do with hearing that same sentiment,” he says as he finishes mucking. He leans himself against the stood up fork and wipes a hand across his forehead.</p><p>“No disrespect to your mama,” Cas says, “but that's an easy thing to say to a child, a dream we tell them so they never think that the world is closed off to them.”</p><p>“Only if it’s never proved that it’s not a dream, Sam was never told that and he’s off doing what he wants.”</p><p>Cas makes a noncommittal hum at his words but gives no response aside from that.</p><p>They return their tools and start walking to the machine shed, he’s glad to be out of the barn, the fresh air of the farm makes him feel free in a way he’s never known before, he doesn’t let the fact that he will never have that freedom bother him.</p><p>“What did you want to be when you were a child?”</p><p>He stalls for a moment, unsure of his answer. In all his years the only person that had asked him that was Sam and he hadn’t done so in such a long time that he forgot the cavern that opens in his chest at the thought of his old idea of ‘perfect future’. It's a hollow cold feeling that sucks the air from his lungs.</p><p>“I never put thought to it, only ever knew life as it was and I never had a moment to spare on thinking about something I could never have, it wasn’t worth the time, Sammy though, he got what he wanted.” A smile graces his face, pride bubbling in his chest and filling in part the ravine.</p><p>“You said that you got Sam into school—” he looks up at Cas’ face, staring him dead in the eyes, and curses the clouds, his eyes are still as dark and indistinguishable as the first night in the barn, he curses himself for having such a desire to know the colour of his eyes, as if it matters, “—but my pa says you can’t read or write, so you never sent yourself to school with him? Is that why it wasn't worth the time to think about what you might want?”</p><p>He grits his teeth against the flare of anger that blooms, it’s no time to lash out. “Someone had to make money, someone had to make sure that Sam had clothes and school supplies, and food in his stomach, now it wasn't my mama’s fault she wasn't there to help but it sure as hell was my father’s fault that that was put on me.” Bloody and cold, that’s how he found his father, in a maze of back-allies a full day after he was supposed to come home.</p><p>As fate would have it, no one had looted his body so he was able to take from his father's corpse a bit of money, his bag and journal to sell, and his necklace with both his parents rings on it.</p><p>He pretended it wasn’t his father, made himself think of it as anything else because suddenly it was all on him. They didn't have records, names, he wasn’t sure if they’d have a place to live for long, so he was on his own, just him and his brother.</p><p>Honestly, that moment should have been the worst of his life, the one that bothered him more than any other even to this day, but he’s so numb now to whatever he felt in that moment that he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to think of it as anything more than a bump in a long history of crumbled roads. So much else haunts him, is it so bad that he doesn’t also have to live with that creeping unbidden into his mind whenever his brain so chooses?</p><p>“I never went to school because if I did, we’d’ve starved. Now, I don't need your sympathy so you’d best not start offering it.” He shuts his eyes against the flashing images of a vacant stare, of blood, and the heavy weight of reality on his young shoulders and against the nausea that rolls through his stomach as violently as it always has. His brain may be numb to it but his heart isn’t always quite as apathetic.</p><p>Anger, he’s learned, is a gateway to unrestrained thoughts, without meaning to, he let slip far more than he ever intended for Cas to know, he’s realizing that his unassuming nature and kind face might be his power in this world, a power he doesn’t even know he has.</p><p>“Do you want to learn?” Cas asks, completely forgoing social niceties and latches onto the most insignificant portion of his little speech.</p><p>“Do I what?”</p><p>“I just mean, I’ve taught my brothers and sisters, and I don't mean to offend but, you would be at the same level as they were when I did so. It makes sense that if you had a want for it, I could help you learn how to read and write a bit, we still have all the supplies, books and the like so it wouldn’t cost a thing for anyone.”</p><p>“But why?” he can't help but ask.</p><p>“Well I want to be a teacher, it’d be a good way to see if I’m able to teach an age other than children, plus you already speak with little issue so it shouldn't be too hard to teach you past the basics. With my siblings, I could never get to teach them past learning the alphabet and reading small books but if you wanted I could teach you all that and then take it further and use some of my old books,” Cas says with waning confidence.</p><p>Sam used to come back from school all the time with stories, he’d share them with a light in his eyes he never thought he’d be able to understand or experience. How long has he spent not wanting to be a victim of circumstance, wanting a life he never thought he can have simply because Sam deserved to go to school.</p><p>“You would really spend your free time helpin’ me learn. A drifter who hasn't a penny to a name I don’t even have.” They've been standing outside the machine shed for quite some time and he rolls his shoulders against the stiffness settling in his now unused muscles, wincing when the raw section twinges against the movement. “Oh I see, I’m the only person in fifty miles near your age that you can spend time with, doesn’t hurt that I’m a fresh face does it, I bet the novelty excites you don’t it?”</p><p>“Y’know you do make it really hard for someone to try to be friends with you. Just say yes that way we can finally get to the work in the shed, you’ve got to learn how to maintain every piece in there so it's not going to be a short day. And I don’t feel like using up every second of it because of your stubbornness.” He looks entirely bored with his accusations and he wants to be angry but never has someone had that response to his outbursts.</p><p>He's so taken aback by the sudden backbone Cas seems to have grown that he can do nothing but agree, stuttering out a, “Yeah okay thanks.” before following Cas into the shed.</p><p>The work is slow and by the end of it his head is swimming with all the information Cas’ told him, he’s not inept around tools, quite the opposite but his skill set is nowhere near the level of some of the pieces of equipment. Among the farm equipment, which ranged from tools used for the animals to plow hoes and other farm equipment that Cas told him wouldn’t be used by him, there are several everyday use items, the extent of which does not stop at the cab Charles left in that morning, there's a workbench and two bins full of moveable children’s toys, beside a door there’s an outside car that he thinks must be for family travel.</p><p>It’s nearing supper time when they leave the shed and head to the stables, Cas begins to talk about the work on the foal. Charles wants him broken-in in the coming weeks so they set to work.</p><p>By sundown, when the ground and the sun are just beginning to meet, they have made some obvious progress on the foal and as they leave, he hears the tell-tale sound of the cab coming near the farmhouse. Cas nearly runs from the stable to get to Remy’s side by the time she stops and he quickly sets on Charles, supposedly about the condition of his sister.</p><p>“Good evening Sir,” he says as he approaches the two men. With a quick look into the cab, he sees that the young girl isn’t there and a small pit forms in his stomach as to what that precisely could mean. “If you’d like I can take Remy here back to the barn and work her through, get her settled for the night.”</p><p>Charles turns to him and he's taken aback by the look of the man, where this morning his face had been cloaked in worry and stress it now screams of defeat and anguish. “Yes, thank you, and make sure she’s tacked tomorrow before I rise, I’ll be heading back into town and I'll need her set up with the cab.”</p><p>He nods his assent before walking up to Remy. As he walks her to the barn he hears Cas and his father talking in snippets. From what he can gather the girl is sick, call for a priest before the week is out sick.</p><p>The work goes quickly, she wasn’t near hot enough to need a walk out and she trusts him enough to not fuss or fight against what he’s doing. By the time he’s cleaning the tack the sun has hidden itself almost completely behind the horizon line wrapping the earth in soft orange and gentle blue as he tracks his eyes away from the ground towards the stars that are beginning to show themselves.</p><p>He isn't sure how he’s going to get supper tonight with the state of the young girl being what it is, but it wouldn’t be his first night without a meal so he supposes, in the end, it’ll be no issue.</p><p>A little while later, as he sits with his back against the wood of the stall, his body stretched out trying to release some of the tension that's found its way deep into his muscles he hears the clatter of the screen door. Moments later Cas—still in his work clothes—rounds the corner and pauses before he steps fully across the threshold of his space. He looks weighed down, a weariness he has yet to see in the man and he wishes he could comfort him, the way he’s seen so many others give and get comfort, tell him soft truths and softer lies, but he knows little of that.</p><p>He’s holding a bowl that is steaming gently and his stomach shows its interest despite his chest feeling as though concrete had been poured to fill the empty spaces. Cas’ face was normally so open, fresh and happy but now, the haunting he thought he had seen that first night mars his face, but it’s different, it goes deep in a different way, it takes control of his body and mind, and he thinks that if he looks hard enough into his eyes he might be able to see what it is that has him so morose.</p><p>“Sorry about the late supper, we got some bad news from the doctor today and Ma had a hard time with it,” Cas says walking into the barn and handing the bowl over. Their fingers touch again but he ignores the pull he feels much better than he did the first time.</p><p>“I'm sorry to hear that.” He remembers the fear every time Sammy came home looking ill, and how he did anything and everything to make sure he stayed healthy.</p><p>Cas fidgets where he’s standing before he turns to him, “I know it's a big ask but could I sit? While you eat at least, being in the house right now will surely result in nothing good for any person on the farm.”</p><p>He’s stunned for only a moment before he schools his face as best he can and gestures to the ground, when Cas sits he looks up and studies him for a time, the stares prickle against his skin but he doesn’t react, content to allow Cas to fill the space if he desires it.</p><p>He eats his way through about half of his meal before Cas speaks, “My sister Hannah, that's who was taken into town today, she's been sick for a short while now but nothing we did ever seemed to help for long. She’ll be thirteen in a few months, she always said she wanted to be a seamstress as much as she wante—wants to be a mother… The doctors don’t know what’s wrong.” He scoffs, “Ma wants us all to pray as though that's helped before. I'm sorry if you’re a religious man but what God would put sickness and death upon a family, and if he does why should we pray to him for saving?”</p><p>He stays silent waiting for Cas, who’s looking resolutely at a board of wood as he speaks, to continue.</p><p>“When I was a child I had a brother, we were born together but I’m told I came first, but I don’t remember all that much of him—” He starts playing with a loose bit of hay, ripping chunks off and tossing them not gently to the ground, “—we weren't identical, apparently that can happen sometimes, he—we were five when he died, I’m still not sure of what he died from, but he wasn’t allowed to play for a long time before that day. My older brothers say that the death nearly killed my ma along with him. Say that she fell into the word of the Lord, never truly came away from it.” He looks in the direction of the house with a wrinkle along his brow, “When my younger siblings came along together, I was nearing nine and I remember the cold that cloaked the room, Gadreel was on everyone's minds when Balthazar was born.</p><p>“Now with Hannah, well I'm not sure how Ma will handle it if we lose her too. It’s not been easy for them to have children, I’m sure you’ve noticed that not all of my siblings look as I do—” he nods slightly, “—my parents tried for some time to have children but found that it was difficult for them, still, they wanted children so they adopted three of my older siblings, as well as three of my younger siblings. Losing Gadreel after having so many troubles with children, and now if Hannah isn’t to get better, it might prove too much for her.”</p><p>He feels like he needs to offer a piece of himself, so that he is flayed open for all to see along with Cas, to let him know he’s not alone in his exposure. But before he can, Cas begins again.</p><p>“My older siblings are supposed to be coming back to the farm in a few weeks, depending on things, they might not know until they get here one way or the other.” He looks up at Cas, and his chest constricts upon itself. He is beyond tears, beyond the looks of sadness and confusion. His face displays almost nothing, the only indication that he is feeling anything are his drawn brows and the slight downward curve of his mouth. But his eyes, his eyes say more than any words ever could, and he knows that look. It's the look of a child who was made to grow up too fast, the look of someone who was forced into responsibilities that they never asked for, it's a look of thinking it was all your fault.</p><p>“You blame yourself don’t you? For all of it.” He flinches as Cas whirls around to look at him. His expression shifts though once their eyes meet and Cas studies him for a moment.</p><p>“Seems you do too. For what? I don't know, but you think it's your fault,” Cas responds, his eyes have lost some of their hardness, and he fights again against the fury that starts to stoke from the embers that never seem to leave his chest.</p><p>“Difference here is that it <em>was</em> my fault, my blame isn’t misplaced as yours is,” he says, trying his best to keep the harshness from his voice.</p><p>“How can you be so sure? About either, how can you know you’re guilty but I’m not?” Cas asks.</p><p>“There are just some things in life that you know. I don't need, hell I don't deserve, to be absolved of anything. That was proven to me long before I stepped foot on this farm. It'll be proven to me long after I’ve left it.” He hasn’t ever said those words out loud before, not to anyone but himself, and the truth of them carves something ugly in his bones. His trust in this man scares him as much as it liberates him and he’s not sure what to make of any of that.</p><p>“And why do I?” Cas asks barely above a whisper, scared of asking the question, scared of hearing the answer, scared equally of not.</p><p>“Currently you don’t because you have nothin’ to be absolved from but, some people just deserve salvation, and some are born into a life that can’t be saved,” he says easily, though it feels like lead is rushing up his throat with the words. He never wanted a life that was beyond saving, never understood why bad things happened to good people, until he stopped being a good person. Then the bad things made sense when they happened to him, but Sam, Sam never stopped being good and then <em>he</em> was the reason bad things happened to a good person. His stain on Sam’s life meant blood and pain and horrors that kept them both awake at night and there is no God that would forgive a transgression so great as endangering those you are meant to protect. He’s not ever been one to believe in any of that but he knows it regardless.</p><p>It’s quiet for a moment, his meal left forgotten on the ground for however long they've been talking, could be five minutes, could have been twenty. He picks it back up, and even though it’s gone a bit cold he starts to work on the rest of it.</p><p>The silence stretches, like the shadows made by the late day sun, it’s calm but as with the anxiety of another day coming to a close it’s strained. Still it plays around them like how the shadows dance across the grass and the buildings and incite nightmares in children.</p><p>He remarks with surprise that this is the first silence in Cas’ presence that he’s felt at ease. The more he thinks he comes to the realization that this might be the only time he’s felt at peace in years; even with the hum of tension and the gnawing in his stomach at being so open and truthful. The practice of anonymity is a hard one to unlearn, and even more so is the feeling of safety involved with it.</p><p>A traitorous part of his mind wishes Cas had brought the flask with him again, and not because of the cooking being subpar, he’s used to meals like that. He wants to know if their first night was a mistake in Cas’ mind, he wants to know where they stand.</p><p>Cas looks at him after minutes spent staring at the ground and asks, “What deems a life as unsaveable?”</p><p>He lets out an empty laugh, “Well living without a name sure as hell doesn't help, no one trusts a man without a name and that means that sometimes, unsavoury actions must be made, nothing that your sensibilities need to hear of mind you,” he says, hoping to lighten the heaviness in the barn.</p><p>“You seem to think that my life on our farm has led me to know nothing of… repugnant activities,” Cas says warily.</p><p>“You sayin’ that you get into trouble often, Cas? Engage in affairs that would leave your ma clutching her pearls?” He’d gone for indifference but fell far short. He hates to think but longs to know what those activities could be. He wants for Cas to not be as untouchable as he is now because maybe then Cas won’t be inclined to think that whatever it is they did his first night wasn’t an error on either of their parts. He silently begs Cas to take the bait.</p><p>“You know nothing of the sort of affairs I may partake in,” Cas replies, challengingly, and he feels them slipping closer to the ground they settled on before. But he needs to be sure, he can’t risk getting this wrong. He tries not to focus too keenly on what Cas could mean by ‘affairs’, one way he gets into some trouble here and there, the other he gets into something else entirely.</p><p>“I wouldn’t be so sure about that Cas,” he says holding Cas’ gaze and cocking an eyebrow, hoping for some understanding to come simply from that. “You may have done some unspeakable things but I assure you that they couldn’t possibly hold a candle to certain actions of my own.”</p><p>“Agree to disagree,” Cas says evasively and silence again falls around them. One he chooses not to fill.</p><p>Frustration flares in his chest; despite having tried his damndest to get Cas to possibly understand that what he does is not foreign to him the man turns out to be as obtuse as a stack of hay.</p><p>In the remaining time Cas spends in the barn their conversations stay safely in passing topics and he wishes he had a way of making him stay longer.</p><p>Laying in the dark he sorts through the day, the last three days, and realizes that this was the length he had thought to stay for, continuing his time at the farm may prove dangerous not only to himself but to the family. But some part of him wants to stay, with Cas’ younger sister sick it seems extra cruel to leave in the dead of night.</p><p>There’s a part of him that doesn't want to leave when Cas remains such an infuriating mystery. How can a man think he is at fault for the death of his brother or the sickness that his sister is plagued with, that the education of his siblings, or the state of his mother is all on him to deal with?</p><p>How can he still carry such innocence and belief in good things, still have such an openness to outsiders? The man is a contradiction on two legs and he wants nothing more than to figure him out a bit more. Just as Remy sighs in her stall—the only noise aside from night bugs—he decides that staying a week wouldn’t be the worst decision he’s ever made.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So Cas has been through some shit too, I couldn't leave it all for our unnamed man to through!</p><p>Yes Cas had a twin. Yes that twin wasn't Jimmy. Yes I suppose it is a little odd.</p><p>It seems our unnamed man is going to stick around a little longer. Besides it's only a week, really how much can happen in that time, I mean it's only a few more days right?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Work of an Ever Changing Mind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wanted to say that I am not a professional teacher, nor have I ever tried to teach a child to read or write at any length. I also have never tried to teach an adult those same things, the scene in this chapter was written from a thought process of what I believe would work the best for people in their situation.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The day starts as any other does, monotonous and incredibly predictable. He wakes and eats with his family, dresses and heads to his father's study, works with his father until his father declares that it is time to head out and tend to some extra chores on the farm. It’s the same as every day, his studies are the last on his list of chores and responsibilities and again they will be pushed off in favour of helping his parents.</p><p>He pokes his head into Hannah's room on his way back through the house and smiles at her when she looks up. He walks in and drops a kiss on her forehead, feeling the burning heat of her skin and promises that he’ll spend some time reading with her tomorrow if not later tonight.</p><p>The sun begins to set when he washes for dinner. As he dresses he hears the commotion from his younger siblings, curious he sticks his head into the space of his bedroom window and his breath catches against his will.</p><p>Walking in with Pa is a man, which would have been cause for confusion and keen interest as it has been some months now since his father welcomed a stranger onto their farm. But his presence isn’t what causes Castiel’s breath to stop short. Even from the distance he can tell the man is a force to be reckoned with, every part of him screams unfettered power, strength, and resolve that he doesn't think he’s ever seen let alone experienced.</p><p>And that's nothing to say about the appearance of him, not even in his dirtiest of fantasies could he have conjured an image of such a man. He’s not overly surprised that his mouth runs dry, images that not even a priest could handle hearing in confession spring to the forefront of his mind and as quickly as they do, he stops them. It wouldn't do to expose himself or his proclivities, especially to a stranger. Not to mention how rude it is to reduce a person to just their physical attributes.</p><p>He sees the man taking in the house, a slightly awed expression takes residence on his face and turns it from hardened and rough to something softer and hopeful in a way. Before he can see him looking Castiel removes himself from the sill and makes quick work of finishing getting ready for dinner.</p><p>Balthazar and Duma sprint up the stairs and right past him as he rounds the banister and he almost manages to tell them to stop before Ma shouts the same from downstairs. He gives them a look that says, ‘I tried to stop you’ as much as it says, ‘told you so’ and his siblings respond with a roll of their eyes before they walk quickly to their rooms to change. Laughing to himself, because he really did become what Gabriel had always referred to as the long-suffering older brother, he walks down the stairs and makes a direct path to the kitchen.</p><p>“Castiel, thank God, your father will be back in a minute and Anael is getting Alfie ready for dinner, could you please finish setting up the table.” Although it was technically a request there was no misunderstanding in the fact that it was actually an order, and one that was expected to be followed without hesitation.</p><p>“Of course Ma.”</p><p>He grumbles silently about the extra chore even though it’s so small of a thing, the fact that it falls to him as the extras always do still grates on him. He’s putting down the last of the table settings when the light sound of feet treading gets louder behind him. Knowing what comes next, he waits, allowing them to have their fun. Their giggles give them away even if their feet hadn’t and he smiles as he feels two sets of arms wrap around his legs and his middle, the pair around his waist wastes no time and begins to tickle him mercilessly, so his squawk is only partly put upon.</p><p>Turning around he scoops Anna into his arms and rests her on his hip while he drags Uriel into his other side rubbing his hair with his knuckles and gripping the top of his shoulder gently.</p><p>“You got me <em>again</em>! We should get bells for you both that way I can keep my wits about me.” Anna giggles again and he can't help but think that her laugh, light, airy, and unburdened, is beautiful. “Hey, Ma! Should we get them bells so they can’t creep up on us anymore?” Uriel throws his head back laughing when the only response they get is a mumbled garble of words that in no way properly answers the question. “Just as well, I may get those bells myself if I need to, now are you both ready for supper?” Bouncing nods are all he gets as a response so he sets Anna down and releases Uriel. They take off towards the front of the house to rejoin Inias, where she’s still looking out the window. He walks to the base of the stairs and calls up to get everyone down in time for supper being served.</p><p>He’s never understood people who think that he could love any of his adopted siblings less than he does the others, he can hear the thumping of Duma and Balthazar, and the excited murmurs from Anna and Inias and can’t even begin to understand how there could be a person who would love one more than another.</p><p>He hears his father come in through the front door by the noise of his siblings, tripping over each other questions flying and just as easily being avoided by his pa, he can picture the scene: his father walks in huffing and shrugs his jacket off hanging it on a hook and placing his hat atop it, it makes something squirm in his stomach, something that feels like annoyance and regret mixed together nearly indistinguishable from each other. The rote nature of his life has never been something he’s fond of and yet it’s the only one he knows so attachment lingers regardless.</p><p>He sits at the table as his siblings file in, in singles and pairs. His mother is the last to sit and no sooner does she settle into her chair than it begins.</p><p>“Castiel, I heard from Mrs. Baker that Ms. April is still single. Now such a nice girl like her should be done looking for someone by now, wouldn’t you say?” Despite the question, she doesn't give time for an answer, “I was thinking that, if your father allowed it and didn’t need you for chores and the like, of course, that on Sunday you’d come with me to church and the two of you could speak, Oh I hear she’s a lovely girl, would make such a good wife don’t you think? If the courtship starts soon, we could have a wedding within a year!”</p><p>He’s silent for a moment, willing one of his siblings to interject with something, anything so he can avoid this conversation for what must be the thousandth time, when no such rescue presents itself he takes as deep a breath as he can without letting on that he’s doing so—Ma and Pa always scold him and his siblings for sighing, it shows disrespect apparently—as he runs a hand through his hair and wishes he could look anywhere but his mother's face for this, “I appreciate that Ma but I’m sorely behind in my studies and with the farm and Pa needing my help, I’m not sure how I could shirk all of my duties for such an activity.” His family, understanding where this is going, sets about eating their suppers.</p><p>“Castiel, we aren't getting any younger and you are at the same age now that your older siblings started seriously thinking about courtship and starting their lives properly. We just want you to be happy, with a family and doing something good with your life.” He looks down at his plate, trying to calm himself. His mother only wants what she deems is best for him even if he’s said more times than he can count that he doesn't share the want.</p><p>“Ma, I don’t want to get married, at least not now, I want to set a path for myself, I can worry about all of that later. There are more important things in life than just finding a wife and having kids. I mean can you say with certainty that the path God has laid out for me is confined to that and that alone?”</p><p>“None of us can speak on God's plan for anyone with any certainty, but it is the duty of everyone to live a life the church deems acceptable,” his mother says, folding her hands on the table. “Your brothers and sisters all know this and have so far followed the doctrine set out for us. There should be no shame in following it yourself Castiel and if you are so worried about the setbacks that have hindered your ability to learn we can solve that with little issue. You can still do what you wish while married. Living a life of grace in God's eyes should be your main concern throughout your life, but nowhere is it said that you must give over everything to do so, you are simply to devote yourself to God as we all have and that means that a wife and children are to be in your future. I can ask Father Philip to make time for you next Sunday if you wish to speak to him about your fears of missing out on aspects of your life to live a proper life.”</p><p>He hated when his mother started on all of this, especially at supper, when he was stuck having to take the lectures about not disappointing God.</p><p>It turns his mouth sour to think that to live happily he may have to say goodbye to his family, his siblings. He knows that being married to a woman, that living out the life his mother wants from him would no sooner send him to his grave than drunkenly cleaning a loaded pistol. The older he grows the more clear it becomes that to be his true self, to not hide behind a woman who deserves better than a husband who regrets each step of their journey together, his contact with his family would become limited at best and cease completely at worst. He’s not foolish enough to think the former is the more likely option.</p><p>Before he can respond, hoping to divert the conversation and for once talk about something else, his father speaks up, “Castiel, while I was out with Remy I came across a young man walking through the far side of our land, he’s in the barn now and will be staying to help on the farm for a time, you will be involved in training him to work while he’s here, I’m hoping he’ll be able to work on the foal, but as of yet he’ll be staying away from Ringer. Can't have the boy getting seriously hurt on the farm or the county might ask a lot of questions I’m not sure any of us has the answer for.” He’d set about eating when his mother was stopped but his father's words make him pause.</p><p>“What do you mean by that Pa?”</p><p>“The boy says he’s got no name, so I don't see how we’d be able to get him any help if we couldn’t do it here. What's more, he says he can’t read or write, now it seems he can speak just fine though which I suppose is a saving grace. I’m sending you out with his supper after we are all finished here, and I was hoping you would be able to get him to talk, find a name or anything that we can use for our records, and in case anything goes wrong. He seems about your age Castiel so I’m hoping that if he has a problem with answering to authority like I'm guessing he does, he’ll talk to you,” his father finishes with a sigh.</p><p>It makes him slightly uncomfortable, the idea of sneaking his way into gathering information, he would hate to solidify to this stranger that people are always after something so he decides that if he’s going to try to learn about the man, he’ll be honest about it.</p><p>“Of course Pa.”</p><p>Luckily for Castiel dinner continues without much further mention of his relationship status and as he’s saying goodnight to his youngest siblings he stops in his room; he pauses to listen for any sounds of his family before taking his flask out and swallowing a healthy shot. He tucks the still cool metal into his pocket, figuring that if he’s had a lifetime of his ma’s cooking and still sometimes needs the liquor to wash it down the newcomer will likely need it too. It's only as he’s heading out to the barn does he realize he is still in his supper clothes. He debates for a moment about going in and changing but settles on carrying on to the barn.</p><p>When he sees the open door his footing stumbles briefly; suddenly struck with the image of the man from earlier in the day, and the thoughts that had run through his mind and he is now far more nervous than he would have thought at the prospect of meeting the man.</p><p>He knocks on the wooden frame, out of respect because the man has no way of knowing that he is arriving with his meal but heats with embarrassment for the act immediately so he rounds the corner of the frame as the words that were just beginning to form die on the man's lips. His eyes search his face quickly and he curses when he realizes his earlier assumption was correct, he is the single most attractive man he has ever laid eyes on.</p><p>It's at the man's words of thanks that he first understands just how much trouble he has found himself in.</p><p>He fights for each piece of information the man is willing to give him, offering up more about himself than he gets in return and the fear in his chest grows larger with each passing minute. If it could be considered as such with how early into their correspondence he finds himself, the moment his name passes the man's lips is the final nail in a coffin he willingly laid himself in. The longer he spends talking to a man who only offers a nickname at best to call him by the more he realizes how far he would be willing to go for him.</p><p>It's foolish, beyond so even he knows this, to consider this man as anything but a stranger but he feels a pull deep within his being, one he can’t describe and one he finds he doesn't want to fight. There is something incredible about this man. His eyes, darkened by their setting, darkened by a past he won’t talk about, go soft with the mention of his brother before hardening against images that swarm only his vision and he wishes he could offer comfort, an avenue of peace into the man's clouded mind.</p><p>The truth slips out faster than he would have wanted it to, a truth that only Gabriel is privy to but his face doesn't speak of mocking when Castiel falls back to reality from which he didn’t know he had left, the dream of teaching slipping into the back of his mind again.</p><p>When <em>Winchester</em> finishes his meal Castiel offers the flask, and as he drinks from it heat swirls low in his belly, the muscles in his throat work around the burning liquid with barely more than a grimace at the feeling. Without meaning to his head thumps against the frame, his mind too drawn in by the near sinful way Winchester’s throat looks dipped back. He tries not to be so obvious, but there is something about watching him drink, listening to him and talking with him that feels more right than even thinking of a life where he’s married to a woman giving forth children because it's his duty to God, that makes his attempts at concealment fail.</p><p>When his ma calls from the door he sighs and leans back to peak at her, stressing the poor joints at the base of his spine to do so. When he turns back Winchester is quickly drinking again from his flask and a zing shoots down his core as a smirk plays upon his lips. He hopes he is reading this correctly and that Winchester may be into his particular brand of blasphemy.</p><p>He steps forward and Winchester rises from the floor and he allows his gaze to sweep hungrily down his body, and he bathes in the beauty that is the faint blush that blooms on his cheeks before he remembers himself and stops his eyes’ trek.</p><p>Castiel is no stranger to lingering touches from men but as his fingers graze gently against Winchesters his heart deems it grand enough to flip in his chest and the heat within him resurfaces, lighting him up from his core. His eyes catch on Winchesters and he holds the stare, allowing the heat of it to consume him for as long as he can before tipping his head back and slowly taking a long draw from the narrow lip of the flask, barely registering the burning that usually stops him from indulging in more than a quick pull. He’s acutely aware that not a minute ago Winchester’s lips were pressed to the same metal his now are. If he savours the moment for longer than her should, it’s really no fault of his own.</p><p>He isn't sure if he would call it a blessing or a curse when his ma yells again into the dark of the night, but it snaps the moment in two and he passes one final look at Winchester before leaving. For the first time since laying eyes on the man, he’s faced with an oddly doe-eyed look that makes him think that for all this man pretends he is above the horrors he seems to be weighed down by he is still a child in his own right same as him, in response he offers a small smile, kind and gentle as what he gives to his youngest siblings, before walking through the yard separating the two buildings.</p><p>His ma is talking but his mind is elsewhere, on Winchester’s face glowing in the yellow light of the lamp, the way his lips curved over his name for the first time and the tensions that cloaked the barn from the moment their eyes had met. He replies to his ma even though he hadn't heard what she said and opens the door for her. It clatters loudly behind him and he flinches praying that the noise hasn’t woken any of his family up.</p>
<hr/><p>The next day is spent on chores, teaching his siblings and himself and sneaking glimpses from the windows at his father and Winchester. His father had asked him to get a name for him but he couldn’t bring himself to share it—even if he had let him know why his father wanted it—as of now his name was one of the few things he knew about him and he wasn’t yet ready to offer that up for everyone else to claim as well.</p><p>His mind races all day, landing on Winchester without meaning to. Around his siblings' lunch he stumbles onto an idea thanks to Inias’ praise of his teaching. He had asked them if they thought he could teach anyone and they all replied with varying degrees of ‘you could teach a squirrel if you wanted to’ but he still has reservations about it, teaching an adult wouldn't be like teaching children but he resolves to ask Winchester the next time he gets a moment to.</p><p>Though he hadn’t gotten the chance to go out with dinner that night he was able to spend the next few days with Winchester even if his mind was clouded with the wellbeing of his sister. He’d quickly learned that of all the things Winchester was, stubborn might take first place.</p><p>He had agreed to lessons, had agreed to spending more time with Castiel than was needed which he tried not to think too far into. But he had fought against the idea, even though Castiel could see how much he had wanted it.</p><p>The night before their first lesson was the night they had learned of Hannah’s condition; the dam had broken within him and his soul felt lighter than it had in some time after telling Winchester all that he had. And in turn his heart felt weighed down from the stories he had received back. It solved nothing for either of them but it was a catharsis he hadn’t known he needed. He let himself bleed in ways no one else had seen and he came out on the other side on his way to better, he only hoped the conversation had worked the same for Winchester.</p><p>He was still guarded, aware of what he was letting slip, as though he was untrusting of Castiel, which he couldn't fault the man for, of the glimpses into his past it didn't seem as though many he crossed paths with could be trusted not to have ulterior motives behind their façade of wanting friendship.</p><p>When day breaks on the fourth morning, Castiel knew he would be working with him again, what with his father requesting Remy be ready at dawn.</p><p>He and Winchester rush their chores, making sure that enough gets done that they aren’t piling on work for themselves for the next day. The foal takes some work, they need to walk him out and check his shoes on top of their training. They attempt to get him used to tacking but it’s such slow progress that they vow to dedicate more time to him later on.</p><p>By mid-afternoon Castiel is sitting under a tree facing strategically away from the house with Winchester beside him. He looks nervous and unsure of how to best balance his slate in his lap. Castiel sits with a pile of books that his younger siblings have finished with and while it is optimistic, he hopes they might be able to move into reading even just a sentence before their makeshift lesson is done.</p><p>He can feel his mother's eyes searching for him, in the rippling sensation that makes its home on the back of his neck and causes a shiver to descend his back despite the heat. He wants to turn around, to shoo her away and leave them to spend this time alone properly but that would raise too much suspicion on what they are doing, on his motives behind this time alone with a man that captured and monopolized his empty hours and filled them with pretenses of a timeline in which circumstance were not what they are, one where he could be open with him and the thoughts that have consumed him since he first saw him, could live and flourish within a sanctity that’s impossible for them to ever have.</p><p>Winchester is looking out onto the fields; the breeze plays with his hair as it curls slightly around the shell of his ear. He fists his hands to stop himself from reaching out to smooth the hair, to tuck it against the soft skin. His hand clenches around the chalk and for the first time since sitting down, he remembers that he is supposed to be teaching and not simply spending time with Winchester.</p><p>“So, I have here my own slate, and I thought it might be good to start with just writing out the alphabet, so you can get used to the way the letters look and the sounds they make. Then we can work on writing out some small words, mind you I’m flying by the seat of my pants here because my siblings didn't know near the number of words you do so if this doesn't work, we can try something else.”</p><p>Castiel begins tracing out the letters, making them as clear as he can, it’s more difficult than he expected as he only writes cursive, not print. As they work through the alphabet, he sings the song his mother taught him when he was a child. Castiel can tell that he is struggling with the rote nature that is expected with learning the alphabet, as an adult who has knowledge of the language much greater than a four year old, he doesn't doubt that this is especially dull work.</p><p>The peace lasts about twenty more minutes before he snaps, “Cas, is there any way this can go faster? Or at the very least be less boring? I mean no offence but it's just letters and I don’t see how they go into words.”</p><p>“I think it might be better if we get you to learn words to help you with the alphabet, not only would you remember it better but you could see some actual progress from one moment to the next. How about we start by you giving me some words that you know, I suppose you already know how to spell Sam but what about Sammy or Samuel?”</p><p>They spend the next while working through words he already understands: school, work, farm, horse among others. Words that he can see the explanation of without issue.</p><p>For the longest time, Castiel thought the most beautiful sight was when an injured or sick sibling got up and walked into the kitchen, or how the sun bleeds into the day and lights up the ground with such intensity you can hear it heating and cracking against the force of it. He thought that nothing could take his breath away more than the sound of Anna and Alfie laughing, or the stars that light up the sky after the day has died and morphed into night, calm and quiet and heavy and so overwhelming it often brought tears to his eyes to think of the vastness of a world he gets to be part of.</p><p>But watching as Winchester makes his way through the words he has been able to make sense of throughout his life, watching as the crease in his brow smooths in recognition and the peek of tongue disappear temptingly back into his mouth when he makes his way around a letter he struggles with is better than anything that he ever experienced before.</p><p>He watches for far too long as Winchester works, offering words up before the man can raise his head and catch him in the act. There is something oddly childlike in the way he curls his form over the slate, the way his fingers still struggle to hold the chalk properly and even more so in the joy Castiel can see so plainly when he writes his first sentence, short as it is.</p><p>It stuns him that he gets to be the one to witness this. Out of all the people on the earth who are more worthy of this experience, he is the one who is trusted with this learning, this act of seeking out information that for so long had seemed locked off to him.</p><p>He thinks of Sam, how Winchester had recalled how often the boy tried to push his brother into schooling, about how next time the brothers meet the gap between them won’t be so insurmountable. He thinks about the parents who lost the chance to see their son grow, be it their fault or not.</p><p>He wonders how long he’ll get to spend in the presence of this incredible man, to watch as he grows in whatever capacity while he lives and works on the farm, the answer he knows in his heart turns his stomach, Winchester already said he’d be moving on, the season won’t last forever and he’ll be off to whatever life he had planned before he stumbled across their land.</p><p>The sun paints shadows that grow long on the ground around them, casting haunting shapes that as a child had scared him more than his parents could stand. Gabriel had always been the one to calm him, only a couple of years older and yet, so protective of him. He often wonders if Gabriel had known all those years back that Castiel wasn’t like his siblings, had known that the world would be cruel to him, beat him down in more ways than one and leave him to deal with the fallout, and he, in whatever way he could, had shouldered some of the burden for him to make it easier. Had shown him love and selflessness long before the world could begin to rob him of the pretenses a child has.</p><p>There was a coldness in his childhood, one that only recently had he started to learn of, his parents shunned him for being the surviving child, so much so that he grew unsure of whether being alive was the winning position. Would it not have been better for everyone, for him to have died with his brother instead of living to remind them all of what they had lost? But then he thinks that had he died alongside Gadreel; the lives of his family would no more certainly be better than they would be worse.</p><p>He would admonish himself for the thought had it not been one he had already done so for. By now he knew it wasn’t a thought he had control over, it would spring forth from the deep recesses of his mind at inopportune times, often with little warning or reason and if most thoughts leave as a whisper, this one stays like a bad cough.</p><p>He breaks himself out of his reverence with the notice of a swaying of a branch a bird had just flown off, its call growing fainter as it puts distance between it and the sullen thoughts bouncing inside Castiel’s head. And looks up just as Winchester—quite quickly—turns his head back to the slate. He doesn't miss the tingeing of his neck, but still he doesn't know what to make of it.</p><p>“You uh—you're holding the chalk wrong again, remember it needs to sit on a finger, you can’t ball your fist around it or you’re more likely to break your tools.” He watches as Winchester struggles for a second trying to maneuver the chalk around in his hand without trying to use his other hand to help. It’s not that he has the fine motor skills of a child but rather that the motion is so foreign to him, he finds it difficult to work the instrument correctly.</p><p>“Here please let me help?” he pauses and waits for the nod before allowing himself to crowd in closer to help. He ignores the feeling, the odd clenching in his chest, when he lays his hands on Winchester’s, fiddling with the chalk to get it to rest on the ring finger of his right hand—it offers more stability than using the middle—and pointedly ignores the way Winchester’s breathing has changed since he moved close.</p><p>They practice more, Castiel speaking about how letter sounds go together, running through the digraphs, again and again, showing him how words like ‘shirt’ and ‘wheel’ work before moving to a few trigraphs. He struggles more with those because so often the same three letters will make vastly different sounds and so they decide to be finished for the day.</p><p>Neither is sure as to when his father is set to return, so they head back to the foal and take him out again running through routines like they know of nothing else. It's not short work per se but the time moves quickly and before long Castiel is working up the nerve to say goodnight to Winchester, trying to work past the part of him that doesn't want to say goodbye yet.</p><p>“My ma is going to be calling me in soon, how about we go and grab the slates and you keep one for the night, that way you can keep practicing if you want to.”</p><p>“Can you—I mean will you be the one dropping supper off tonight?” he sounds hopeful, but it's like he's trying to hide it.</p><p>“Pa’s not back yet, so it’ll probably be me. If you want, while we’re eating you could run some lines on the slate, nothing too much, just a sentence or two, and I could look them over as you eat to see where you need more help for next time.” He doesn't want to seem overbearing, nor does he want to leave the man in an uncomfortable position by having to decline his offer, it’s unstable terrain, as it has been since the first moment Winchester spoke to him, if he’s being honest with himself, since the first moment he saw the man walking past the house.</p><p>He watches with detached focus as a bat swoops into the waning light, free of the dangers the day holds, so much like himself and how he treads around Winchester. Their contact changes so much with the moon's appearance in the sky, he awaits it more each passing day as he thinks the bat must wait for the cooling earth to signal its moment to fly again.</p><p>“Uh ya you—we can do that,” Winchester says. He starts off towards the barn, slate tucked under his arm before turning back, “Oh and maybe bring the drink again I was a bit in need of it last night, no disrespect to your Ma.” He isn't looking at Castiel when he says this and Castiel tries not to read into it, knowing what the flask means for him doesn't automatically mean it means the same for Winchester, he would even go so far as to say that he isn’t sure if Winchester knows of the possible insinuation of it.</p><p>Even still a heat rises in his chest and lights a small flame upon his cheeks at what he could mean by it. “I’ll be sure to sneak it past my ma when I bring you supper,” he says with a smile. “Wouldn't do to have her think you've got an issue with the cooking, even if it’s valid."</p><p>He offers a smile in return, a real one and says, “I’ll see ya Cas.” before he slips through the doorway of the barn and disappears from sight. A stifling quiet blankets the farm in the wake of his absence and Castiel can only escape it by retreating into the lion's den that is dinner with his ma’s pestering.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Our first Cas chapter!! I hope you enjoyed this look into his life and all the craziness of a full household.</p><p>Mrs. Baker is in fact Mildred Baker from season eleven and Ms. April is April, the reaper from season nine. Also, I know Inias is in a male vessel in the show but to make the tally of boys and girls more even I wrote Inias as a girl (this means that like Cas and Gadreel, Balthazar and Inias are fraternal twins and not identical twins).</p><p>I wrote Cas' interactions with his siblings from a mix of personal and professional experiences. If it seems like Cas is acting more like a caretaker than a big brother when he's with his young siblings it's meant to.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Way a Word Means Salvation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The constant life of sleeping against the hard earth, or the floors of easily disreputable establishments, meant that his back and his neck hardly hurt upon waking each morning on the floor of the barn. It was easy enough to roll out any minor kinks, though the pull in his shoulder as the skin splits yet again at the seam of the burn worries him, if it gets any worse it might come time to mention it to Cas but until that time he’ll leave it.</p><p>It's odd that the nights he’d spent in a bed, wrapped in sheets and warmer than he’d ever been, were the ones that he slept the worst. The ground was a cold comfort, it would suck the warmth from his bones, but it’s where he found himself most secure, most at peace.</p><p>Cas spends his life in the warmth of sheets and blankets and the love of family, and he wants to be angry, wants to be jealous of all that Cas has that he doesn’t but, then he remembers who he is, sees the trouble he’s been through and knows that Cas wouldn’t ever deserve a life where he knew what the floor felt like as it dipped below the weight of a patron walking past a little too close to the sleeping forms littering the floor, didn’t deserve to worry if his face was covered enough as to not assuage suspicion but to ensure someone wouldn’t deem his pretty face one that was theirs to try to claim. He certainly doesn’t deserve the bloody knuckles that result from such an experience.</p><p>The farm breathes the life of a new day, as only it can after a night of heavy rain. He opens the creaking door and watches the waving mist reach into the sky before it disappears, reborn into that form for no more than a few hours and again dies to be reborn as rain that falls or streams that flow. He wishes the lives of people could have a rebirth that was so seamless and lacking in anguish, that it wasn't a fight of blood and tears and pain but a dance of air and light and the warming ground.</p><p>He figures the day will be reasonably uneventful, Charles didn’t return the previous night so work on a large scale is paused until he is able—until Hannah is able—to come home, or perhaps until she isn’t.</p><p>He tries to think of a time when he witnessed such proof of a parent's love for their children but comes up blank. Charles forgoing the work on the fields, sidelining the work and letting the farm go so he can be with his daughter as her condition worsens would have been unthinkable to him a week ago. But the heavy set of the man's shoulders and the gaunt look of his face the day he came back at supper proves that there’s little in this world that would come above the family.</p><p>Worry gnaws at him as his time on the farm grows, Charles wouldn’t for a second attempt to shelter him against anyone if his family was threatened even for a moment.</p><p>Collateral damage is just part of the deal for those who may come after him. He's seen it enough times himself, shuddering against the faint sound of groaning and the transparent images of blood-stained skin. He’d be offered up like a lamb for slaughter, and he doesn't even blame the man, couldn't if he tried.</p><p>Cas comes out of the house, catching the screen door before it slams and walks towards him with their breakfast, his chest flutters as he gets closer, the pull he feels gaining strength as their proximity increases, he fights against a smile and the giddiness in his chest—he used to rib Sam for getting worked up over a kid at school when he was a child, coming back beaming because they talked to him or what have you, but he understands it more now, as much as it worries him to—and just as he walks the last steps a wish that has been stirring in the back of his mind comes true. In the early morning light that shines from over his shoulder, he finally gets a glimpse of his eyes.</p><p>During the first days, he thought his eyes must have been brown, possibly so dark brown they looked black, beautiful in their boundless depth and he knew they would be easy to fall into, like the curtain of nightfall and its inky hold on the heavy eyelids as waking hours turn into silence and peace. In the clouded light of the day, his eyes were shadowed, darkened by his brow. He knew that whatever they looked like there must be a deepness to the colour, but he hadn’t been able to get close enough to see it.</p><p>It had bothered him for days, as he learned what Cas looked like in his different emotions, how happiness tilted his neck back and screwed his eyes shut, how worry brought his brows close together and his jaw clench, how frustration—aimed at him—caused a smile to breach his lips and his eyes to roll as they partially hardened with resolve.</p><p>He had tucked each new piece of information away in his head, against his own better judgement he replayed them, ignoring the part of him that told him not to get attached to the man, even slightly. But with all the learning he had done, the part of him he longed to see most was blocked off. Until now.</p><p>He’s struck quite dumb by what he’s faced with. Not brown, not anywhere close to brown, but <em>blue</em> like he’s never seen. Blue like the sky darkening with the promise of rain, like the water of a lake in mid-summer, water pure and deep, ready to swallow you up, granting you a calm that only floating gives to you.</p><p>He knows it’s a paltry comparison, if he was able, if he let himself, he would speak on the colour of his eyes until the entire world knew of their incredulity, their boundless and immeasurable awe, how they give so easily to the warmth a smile creates, how they would allow him to slip into their colour and sink, sink farther than he ever has before.</p><p>He looks into the blue, a stark contrast from the hair that lays unkempt on top of his head, a remarkable compliment to the slight flush of his face, no doubt caused by his continued staring. He drops his eyes, accepting the bowl as a flush of his own spreads across the back of his neck.</p><p>They take their time as they eat and he remembers his thoughts from earlier and figures now’s as good a time as any to see if he can get some clarity.</p><p>“Cas?” When Cas tilts his head, electing not to speak for the mouthful of food he’d have to talk around, he takes it as a cue to continue. “I was just wondering why it was that your family doesn't seem to work your farm much.”</p><p>Cas swallows with a bit of difficulty, clearly forcing the food down before he should have, and coughs once before he answers. “The land’s been in our family for a few generations,” Cas clears his throat after hearing how raspy it is and he’s silently grateful. “We work as much as we choose to and the money goes to simple things, food, clothes, Hannah’s care now I suppose… I can't remember the last time I saw much of the property listed on our records as having a payment due. We don't farm much as you can see, that's part of the reason why it has been so long since Pa has brought someone here to help.”</p><p>He wonders if he’s the first stranger that some of Cas’ younger siblings have ever seen on the farm given that they didn't often take in stragglers.</p><p>“The farm’s not overly large either, far longer than it is wide, I would reckon that you came in from just about the worst possible spot considering where I saw you walk in from with my pa.” He’s a bit taken aback that Cas had watched as he walked in. But at the same time, he likes knowing that he managed to catch Cas’ interest so quickly. He enjoys that for a few seconds before he realizes that it wasn’t him personally that caught his attention, but because he was a newcomer that brought with him some excitement for the family.</p><p>“My family’s been the only ones to work the land since I don't know when, I think my great-grandfather was the one who started the farm but it might have been his father before him. We almost lost the farm during the war, when some folks in town had heard that my grandfather was siding with the north they tried to burn it all down, when the south lost, as it should have—” Cas says it almost as a challenge, as though he’s daring him to argue, having no reason to he stays quiet, “—the town ran those folks out and since then there hasn't been much issue, people tend to find out quickly that the town doesn't stand for that bigotry.” Cas picks at the sleeve of his shirt absently.</p><p>“It took a little while for everything to go back to normal and fix the damages but once that happened, they decided to work only as much as was needed. That’s about all I know; my pa doesn’t talk often about anything to do with the farm aside from what is happening on it at that moment. Hardly even talks about what’s going to happen to the farm in the future which is beyond frustrating sometimes.”</p><p>He nods, the reasoning is sound, if you only need to make enough to get by it’s a lot easier to put work aside when you need to. He doesn't understand it but it makes sense. Never in his life had there been a day that he could just decide not to work, granted he never owned the place he was working at but that freedom must be incredible.</p><p>They continue through breakfast with menial chatter before Cas heads back into the house promising to meet him in the barn later on.</p><p>Without Cas, he heads off and tends to the animals, opening the doors, filling the troughs and mucking what needs mucking. It's easy work, but it allows his mind to stray. To combat it, he runs through letter combinations, stuck on some of them from the previous day.</p><p>As he’s making his way through ‘tch’, listing the words they worked through that used the combination, Cas returns. He has the slates tucked into a small bag along with what looks to be a few small books, they never made it to reading anything yesterday. Looks like Cas wants to change that today.</p><p>He lays the bag against the siding of the barn and calls to him.</p><p>“Do you need help to finish, or can I head over and get to work on Ibby?”</p><p>“I'm just about done here, head on over and I’ll meet up with you there, oh and Cas—” he waits for Cas to look up at him, “—try not to undo my hard work eh? I saw you with him yesterday and it wasn’t pretty.” Cas looks affronted for about two seconds before he smiles and heads off towards the stables shaking his head in good-natured disbelief.</p><p>“Well I for one am glad he took that so well,” he says to one of the ambling pigs, though the only response he's given is a disgruntled snort. “It could have gone a lot worse, couldn’t it? But I'm right you know, Ibby is getting along great and Cas, well he doesn't like him all too much, ‘s not his fault mind you, it’s just the way of things.” His audience makes no comment on his assessment, the animals choosing to simply carry on as though he wasn't there at all. It makes him smile, to be able to speak freely and not worry about who might be hearing, he never thought he could value something so simple as much as he does.</p><p>After he finishes up, he makes his way over to the stables. He watches Cas from a distance, getting ready to face him again, something that has become suddenly and ridiculously more challenging since he finally properly saw his eyes. They’re the kind of eyes that pin you in place and he's left to do nothing but be suspended within their gaze, to allow Cas the chance to see into his soul if he wanted.</p><p>He’s lived a long enough life that he understands the difference in feelings that come with meeting certain people, people that he can only assume are meant to be something special to him. He understands the feelings as best he’s able, reasonably sure that there is an inherent part of him that is incapable of producing reciprocal feelings, he surely had never met someone for which he shared the intense interest, men or women alike. But with Cas, he may be starting to understand what the fuss is all about.</p><p>The thought of letting Cas in like that, of having bared himself so completely for another person to witness, scares him, he’s not foolish enough for that idea to come without wariness attached. What scares him even more, is the inkling of desire that comes with the thought. He wants to be open finally, he wants to be free of what he holds so deeply inside of him, the aspects of him that darken the soul so much that at times, he worried wasn’t even there.</p><p>He never could do that to Sam, he was too young to burden with all that. To let that onto another person would be to damn his soul more than it already is, to keep it in is to break his body around the pain. But now, now he knows that if he were to offload it, it wouldn't be to put upon another but to simply release it, let it run from his body and soak the ground around him, mar the earth until nothing could grow upon it.</p><p>For Cas to see him, truly see him, could be disastrous, but those feelings he never quite understood in other people, are starting to make him want to try.</p><p>“Cas!” he calls, still a ways away. “You best not be messin’ with him, I told your Pa I was good with horses, don’t make me out to be a liar.” Closer now he can see Cas’ answering smile.</p><p>“There's no way that in the five minutes I’ve been with him alone he could unlearn everything,” Cas responds, hand stroking along Ibby’s neck. He tries to not get distracted by the motion, but like everything about Cas, something draws him into it. The splay of his strong fingers, the gentle rotation of his wrist with each pass along his shoulder, how his hand reaches into his mane on odd passes splitting the hair and carding his fingers through it without a thought. It’s intoxicating in the most infuriating way.</p><p>“It’s easier to unlearn a habit isn’t it?” he asks with a playful cocked brow, distracting himself from his hands.</p><p>“Might be, depends on the habit doesn’t it?” Cas replies pointedly.</p><p>“I suppose it does, it must depend on if you want to break it too, harder to accidentally or purposefully unlearn a habit you enjoy.” He knows that at times he had tried to unlearn those particular habits, but always failed immeasurably. Could the subverted hints about Cas’ forays into immoral acts mean he’s tried to do the same?</p><p>Cas makes a noncommittal hum in response before following it with, “I can’t imagine he quite enjoys this song and dance, perhaps I have been letting him unlearn it all just to test your abilities with him, prove to myself what my father already believes.”</p><p>“Don’t you trust me,” he says in mock affront, knowing full well that Cas couldn’t possibly trust him much at all.</p><p>“My trust in you has nothing to do with your training abilities, but I would still like to see if for myself; he's all yours,” Cas responds, stepping back from Ibby and letting him walk up to the horse, eyes tracking his movement across the paddock.</p><p>“Much obliged.” As he’s beginning to work him through, settling into the routine they had worked out, Ibby’s maybe a week or two away from being fully broken in, a good sign no doubt. As he goes about the work his shoulder twinges with his movement and he isn't able to catch the hiss of pain before it escapes his mouth.</p><p>“Are you okay?” Cas asks, his voice hinting at concern. “That's the second time in as many days that you've expressed discomfort while using your arm.”</p><p>“‘M fine, it’s nothing I haven't dealt with before just fine.”</p><p>“You’re mighty fond of that word aren't you, ‘fine’. What is it? My pa would surely have both our hides if he found you were working with an injury, and while you may be okay with that, I am certainly not excited about the prospect of that particular activity because you won't ask for help where you need it.” It surprises him that Cas had taken notice of the grimace from the day before; he had thought he controlled it enough for it not to be noticed by him.</p><p>He debates deflecting again, but decides on at least telling a partial truth, “My shoulder gives me a hard time now and then, it's really nothing you need to worry yourself over.”</p><p>“Did you hurt it? Or is it more a pain that never likes to go away?”</p><p>“I suppose I hurt it, but honestly you don't need to worry about it at all, it won't impact my work.” As if to prove it, Ibby doesn't fight him as he changes things up, trying to get him used to the spontaneity of a working day. A proud smile overtakes his features, pleased at his work paying off.</p><p>“I couldn't give a good god damn if it affects your work, that's not why I'm concerned, if you're hurt, I want to know so I can help you.” There is something gentle in Cas’ eyes as he says this, something that he can’t begin to put a name to because he’s not sure anyone has trained that expression on him before. Still, it irks him.</p><p>“I don't need help,” he says bitingly.</p><p>“Hmm I disagree,” Cas throws back with plain expression.</p><p>“I don’t think it's your place to disagree with my assessment of myself.”</p><p>“Shockingly, we disagree again,” Cas says with a pointed look. “See just two days ago I said I wanted to be your friend, and you, for all that I can think, agreed to that ask. Now I'm not sure if you know this but friends help each other whenever the other needs it.”</p><p>“Isn’t the friend supposed to first ask for the help, rather than it being forced upon them?” he shoots back, annoyed with how thoroughly Cas refuses to drop this conversation.</p><p>“I mean normally yes but, you don't seem to be one to reach out,” Cas sends a cheeky smile in his direction at the near murderous expression he knows has come across his face, “I am wrong? If I'm wrong please do tell me, I'll curb my assumptions in the future.”</p><p>Cas wouldn't buy it for a second if he said he was in fact wrong in that assumption of him. He’s surprised at the flack he’s getting from Cas, the playful banter that they are sharing over the back of Ibby as they work through his training. Though it's not banter really, bickering might be a better way of describing what’s happening between them.</p><p>If he didn't know better, he would assume Cas was flirting in his own way, gaging his interest and storing it for the future. He's not sure what to make of it, every time he thinks he's understanding a bit more of Cas and whatever it is that is going on between them—if it’s anything at all—he does something to throw him off. For Christ's sake, the man is talking explicitly about being his friend but the look in his eyes tells a very different and very compelling story.</p><p>“If my shoulder begins to bother me again I vow to tell you, does that appease you Cas? Until that time, understand that I am fine and your concern, while appreciated, is not necessary.”</p><p>“I was right the other day when I said you have a hard time letting someone be your friend, even Ibby can tell something’s up, can’t you boy, he’s full of it isn't he?” Ensuring Cas isn't looking his way he makes an exaggerated eye roll, tossing his head back slightly at how over the top Cas is as he croons at the foal.</p><p>“It's not my fault you had so many siblings to converse with as a child, in all honesty, I’m not sure I've ever had a friend before. Sammy, I suppose, but aside from him? Wasn’t so lucky as to make friends easy, ya see, and I never had the time to spend doin’ so.”</p><p>Since the first day on the farm something about Cas had him showing the cracks in his carefully built walls, and Cas for what it’s worth had known exactly how to chip at them and break through them in ways that didn't make him want to run for the hills.</p><p>It scares him, make no mistake, he’s objectively terrified by Cas’ ability to make him so open but there’s a sneaking part of him that rears up whenever a bit of the wall is toyed with and another that shouts in glee at the intrusion into his carefully constructed façade.</p><p>“Well you can't say that any longer,” Cas says grinning ear to ear, beyond proud of himself it seems.</p><p>“Suppose I can’t,” he resigns to allow Cas to take the win with this exchange, not bothering to fight the battle he had little interest in any longer and resolutely ignoring the smile that threatens to grace his lips.</p><p>They spend a bit longer working with Ibby, and he is beyond impressed at his progress and ability, without needing to know his lineage he knows he’ll be a mighty fine horse, good for work or riding.</p><p>Cas takes him back to the machine shed and they run through them all again, with Charles in town with Hannah, a great deal of the normal work of the farm is on hold, awaiting his return, so for the time being Cas makes sure he is ready for Charles’ when that does happen.</p><p>He elects again not to mention that he doesn't expect his stay at the farm to last much longer at all. He had decided that a week on the farm was respectable, both in terms of labor work and the risks of staying in one place for too long when he had no way of knowing if the debt collectors were trying to scent out his trail to come knocking. But the longer he spends on the farm—the longer he spends with Cas—the longer he wants to stay. Not to mention that he would feel mighty wrong leaving on such terms as these, with Charles taking care of his daughter and leaving his eldest son to take the reins of the farm in his absence, his help seems to have come at just the right time.</p><p>“I think we should move to machine tack for Ibby soon, that will, for the most part, be his role here, on occasion he’ll be used for riding but only if Pa is in need of it,” Cas says as they move again from the shed, his knowledge of the equipment much improved. “It will also allow you to become more familiar with the machines and buggies.”</p><p>“Shall we start that tomorrow?” he asks, watching the clouds of dust that puff out from his boot toe as he scuffs his feet gently in the dirt. Cas stops, so briefly that he nearly misses the halt in his gait, and he eyes up the man in confusion.</p><p>“I may be in town tomorrow. If I am you’ll be alone to work on the farm, my pa doesn’t like the idea because you’re still learning but we don't have many options currently with Hannah still ill. I hope I won’t be in town for too long as the farm isn't supposed to be left unmanned as it were in case someone was to come looking for my pa. With him gone that duty falls to me and if I'm off the property for long and someone was to stop by neither of us is sure exactly what would happen.”</p><p>“I understand that I have no seniority here but if you are worried about the safety of your family there is no way I’d allow for anything to happen to them if I could stop it. I am reasonably well versed in dealing with that sort of thing and I'm not one to shy away from an altercation if it means that I'm protecting someone."</p><p>“I have complete faith that you would step in to help and we aren't expecting anything to go wrong in our absence but it's always best to be prepared,” Cas says as they walk up to the bag with the slates, he pauses and looks at his hands. “Is that what the scars are from?”</p><p>Looking down at his own hands he sees the white starred scars that litter the breadth of his knuckles, he almost can't feel them anymore, any range of motion he lost thanks to the tightness of them has become normal for him, “That's part of it for sure.”</p><p>Stretching out from his beaten up knuckles are the crooked lengths of fingers that have been broken too many times. He can picture with clarity the scars that pattern the skin beneath the sleeves of his shirt. A map of wrong turns and missteps that had more serious consequences than he could ever have imagined.</p><p>When he looks up from his hands, his fingers twitching with the memories that refuse to settle, Cas is looking into his face, eyes open when he knows his are guarded, and he wishes, not for the first time, that he was able to reflect that look back at Cas, but fear grips at his chest and keeps its hold deep in his spine. He looks at the ground instead.</p><p>“Can I assume that the scars here—” Cas says calling his attention from the ground and tapping his own forehead and cheekbone, and damn Cas has really nice cheekbones—soft and full begging to be caressed by a pair of lips—but he shuts that train of thought down quick enough to give him whiplash, “—are also partly from that?” Cas finishes with a tap to his chin as well.</p><p>He hums lowly, nodding his assent at the dirt. The feeling of exposure squirms along his skin, he doesn't want Cas to come at him with sympathy and a gentle voice, he hates it, always has, when he’s treated like glass, on the cusp of breaking at all times. It rarely matters that they mean well, the second you get treated with soft voices is the second a target is put on your back. There is no difference between showing weakness and having those around you treat you as though they think you need help. At least there is no difference to those who would gladly take on a man they deemed easy pickings.</p><p>“Well I know what words we’ll start with today; if you're agreeable of course.” Cas sends him a smile before sitting against the side of the barn, out of the view of the house. It astonishes him again how Cas more or less refuses to treat him as ‘proper manners’ dictates, he's glad for it of course but he wonders why he responds as he does when surely his parents taught him better than that.</p><p>Cas starts him out with rewriting the alphabet but from memory as best he can, he makes it to the letter F before he runs into trouble, and then makes it to Q before he stalls again. Cas gets him to go through the song again and sing as he draws out the letters. It’s easier today, though it's still not easy altogether, and when Cas finally asks him to start copying and writing the words he doesn't get frustrated as quickly.</p><p>When Cas asks him for things he knows, he eventually offers up ‘children's home’ to which Cas pauses.</p><p>Sensing that he wants some story to help him understand why he knows of such things enough to use it in their lessons, he starts, “When Sam and I were young, after our father died, someone found us. We hadn’t found shelter yet so we were easy to spot. They must have written someone, probably someone at the home about us and one day we were picked up, told we had to go with them,” he fights valiantly against the thickness in his throat. “We spent maybe a week or two in the home, Sam honestly enjoyed it, I didn't hate it mind you, but I wasn’t gonna call it home if I could have helped it.</p><p>“Sam had his records by then because he was getting ready to start in at school, but I didn’t. One day one of the ladies that worked there came up to Sam and me and said that someone wanted to adopt him, without records I didn't have much chance to get out and they weren’t looking to take me in as well. So that night, I grabbed Sam and we left. ‘S my job to look after him and I couldn't very well do that if he was off in some other city with another family.” It was more than he was planning on sharing, more vulnerability shown in a few scant sentences than he’s sure he’s shown since he was a child.</p><p>“What did you do after you left the home?” Cas’ voice isn't gentle, apprehensive may be a better word, as though he’s not sure he wants to know the answer.</p><p>“I moved us into the valley again far from where they grabbed us.” He smiles, as horrible as his life has been, as much as he has to regret regarding his time in the valley and in general, his fondest memories all come from his life there. Sam and his unwavering happiness, the crisp air in the mornings of the colder months, how his breath looked as it swooped from his mouth, dancing just as the mist had that morning. His chest lurches painfully against the knowledge that no matter what he’s left all that behind. “I got Sam in school, found a job, and we started living again. It was far from perfect but it was the best we were able to have.”</p><p>Cas peeks at him though his face is downcast, he studies him for a moment, enjoying the gentle sweep of Cas’ eyelashes along his brow bone.</p><p>“You felt safe there, happy even at least a little?”</p><p>“It was the only place we could really call home. Even with all the moving around we did.”</p><p>He's silent again, his fingers pick against the nail beds of the opposite hand. Cas is nervous, though he has no clue why.</p><p>Nerves of his own ricochet through his chest, not enjoying the suspended moment they have found themselves in.</p><p>Cas moves his slate back into his lap and writes out a word.</p><p>“Can you write this one, valley, like where you grew up?”</p><p>He does so, mouthing the word as he writes it a few times, naming the letters to better familiarize himself with them.</p><p>“Valley.”</p><p>He gets a wide smile in return before the feature is marred with uncertainty.</p><p>“I completely understand if you want to tell me to piss off after this,” Cas begins, his nerves kick up again, unsure of where Cas is planning to go with this train of thought. “But I’ve been thinking more about how you don’t yet have a name. How you said that it needed to mean something.”</p><p>An odd mix of anguish and anger lights a fire behind his ribs but he waits it out, if he’s going to explode, he wants it to be for good reason. So that in the future there would never be even a sliver of regret or doubt of his actions when he thought back to the moment.</p><p>“Valley—the valley—seems to mean a great deal to you, and I was thinking—well I just thought that you could get a name from that,” Cas finishes lamely seemingly unsure of how to proceed through the rest of the conversation.</p><p>“You think my name should be Valley?” he asks with sincere incredulity.</p><p>Cas’ cheeks light up in pink before he stutters out, “No, no of course not, I,” he blows out a frustrated breath. “Most of the words we use come from other words, from languages we don’t speak, it's quite frustrating truthfully, but the word valley brought on a given name, a first name that is,” Cas says before he takes a breath, apparently quite hesitant with this exchange.</p><p>“What’s the name, the one that means valley?” he hopes he likes it because the idea of having that type of connection to the place that his best and more cherished memories are from warms something in his chest, abating the fire that had reduced itself to embers when he saw the struggle Cas was going through.</p><p>A small bit of sunlight bleeds through the slats of the barn, lighting slivers of the ground blinding white as Cas struggles to put his words together. He reaches his hand out and lets the sun play on his fingers, his hands shake gently with the nerves that have made their home in his chest, sitting snuggly beside the burned-out embers that never leave.</p><p>Cas opens his mouth and closes it again; he looks at Cas and notices the bleeding light falling along the shell of his ear as he scratches behind it. When he speaks again his voice is sun warm, but he might be imagining it.</p><p>“It’s from an old English word, I'm not sure exactly how the connection came to be, it's not simple like it is sometimes.” Cas looks up at him with a hopeful smile. “But if you wanted, your name could be Dean.”</p><p>Dean.</p><p><em>Dean</em>.</p><p>Dean Winchester... if he wanted, if he was willing, he could have a name. A proper name.</p><p>“Dean? Could you—uh could you write it out for me, so I can see it?” he asks his voice slightly strained. He thinks he can see it in his mind, can picture the letters he thinks should be in the word but he needs to see it.</p><p>Cas does so and it's a simple name really, four letters, pure in a way. Like fresh air or when he was able to snag a still warm piece of bread as a child. Something about the four letters just seems to evoke ‘home’ in his mind.</p><p>Cas writes again, writes out the surname he had given his first night and though he has seen the word before, heard it said many times, enough to understand it, something seems to break inside of him as he looks at <em>his name</em>. This could be his name with nothing more than a promise to himself not to forget it.</p><p>“Dean Winchester,” Cas says after a heavy moment of silence, and like the first time he heard Cas speak, he barely contains the shiver that rocks through his body, his voice moulding itself around his name racketing the chaos of emotions swirling through his brain.</p><p>“Dean Winchester,” he echoes back barely above a whisper, he can’t seem to settle on any emotion for very long, he feels the burn of tears behind his eyes, the creak of his jaw as he smiles, the drop of his brows as his face falls, from relief or disbelief or whatever other emotion he doesn't know.</p><p>He looks up at Cas, who is staring back at him with a wistful smile adorning his face. He holds out his hand, the scars standing out against the tan of his skin, but where he normally would care, he doesn't, he simply waits for Cas to reach out as well and as he clasps their hands together and as the jolt he knew would tear up his arm settles in his heart he says, “Hi, my name’s Dean, Dean Winchester.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>He knows he looks a sight, his cheeks are flushed, he can feel that much, and his eyes are likely to be flashing between the emotions that still riot in his mind and his chest feels set to burst and cracked open all the same, but he can't find it in him to care because for the first time he can remember he has a <em>name</em>.</p><p>“Hello Dean, my name is Castiel, Castiel Novak.” Cas doesn’t wait to be asked to pick up the chalk again and write out his own name. It’s nestled just below his on Cas’ slate. For some reason, it looks like it fits.</p><p>The way his name sounds as it rolls from Cas’ tongue could, to others, sound like nothing out of the ordinary, but to him, it sounds like a prayer, a promise of absolution and he thinks maybe, with a name of his own, he could live a life others would be proud of. The way he makes it sound, sounds like he could be worth something.</p><p>He picks up his chalk with shaky hands and writes the word out, it's messy, his hands are shaking too much to make sure they come out as clearly as his other words have been. He stops after writing ‘Dean’, and just looks at it for a moment before adding the last name. He looks up again and writes out Cas’ name first and last, light grey letters, unassuming and plain on the dark grey backing of the slate. But to him they mean everything.</p><p>It hits him slowly that the first word he wrote out that he didn’t have any knowledge of before was his name, a smile breaks out on his face that he has little success in dampening.</p><p>When he looks up again, after spending some time getting used to his name, the way it looks, the way it feels to write it out, Cas is looking at him, his face is lit up like what he thinks deliverance must look like and he begs to one day be worthy of such a look. He thinks that with his name, he may be able to reach it one day.</p><p>And if that's not possible, if his life is still deemed as a damned one that can’t be saved, he at least has gotten himself one step closer, and that must count for something.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>DEAN!!!</p><p>Cas is right by the way, Dean does in fact mean Valley and try as I might I could not figure out why.</p><p>I cried while I wrote the scene where Dean gets his name but that's mostly because I wrote almost twenty-five thousand words with a main character that had no name. So they were, at least in part, tears of relief.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Pain of Words Never Meant to be Heard</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Minor warning that this chapter ends on a bit of a cliff hanger, it's also very, and I mean very long. If you're nearing what would be considered a normal bedtime for you it might be best to sleep now and pick this up again after some rest.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cas had rarely ever called him by the name Winchester in his time on the farm, but now that ‘Dean’ had been offered and accepted he seems hell-bent on only addressing him as such.</p><p>They spend some time—after Dean calms down from the excitement—writing sentences. Cas starts off by saying one aloud and Dean repeats it, then they write it in turn before moving on. Cas pulls out some of his books and gets Dean to read from them as best he can, the sentences are short, the words rarely reach longer than five letters and he can understand why these books are given to children.</p><p>It was different when they were only working on random words and common sentences, but with the texts in front of him he feels quite dim. It's not a feeling he is unaccustomed to, Sam tried his best but he knew he wasn’t the one that could be deemed anywhere near smart. Still, it grates at him, his incompetence in something that should be so easy, he <em>knows</em> these words, has spoken them a thousand times and yet he still can’t make the connection. He supposes that this particular feeling is why young children seemingly spontaneously lose their composure so often.</p><p>It doesn't help that each time Cas uses his name a jolt runs through his body, and he says his name a lot. Almost like he wants to make sure Dean knows it. As though he could even for a moment forget the fact that he finally has a name.</p><p>As Dean lays wrapped in the blanket that night, he thinks about Sam. Sam, the boy who had pleaded for years for Dean to name himself, who wanted to see his brother escape the life he lived as he himself slowly was. What would Sam think of his name? Would he be happy or angry for it having taken him so long to finally do? Would he think it rude that a relative stranger offered up one name and Dean had jumped on it where he had offered ten, twenty, thirty only to be shut down each time?</p><p>Could Dean even assume that Sam would ever find out about the fact that he had gotten himself a name. Without solid records, his death would be filed as an unknown and his family would never be notified. As it is Sam has no way of contacting him and while he knows where Sam is now, he’s never had a hope of ever writing him a letter. Even the few coins he’s able to send Sam are never delivered with any writing, there’s never even been a return address on them.</p><p>His brain betrays him and slips into the idea of getting records, proper ones to have for the rest of his life. How that could change everything, how Dean could leave the life he led behind him and move on anew. A job, a place to call his own maybe, a partner—it’s almost instant the reel of images that flash before his eyes and all he can see for a few seconds is gummy smiles and the light spray of scruff of a chin not shaved, of blue eyes and wild hair.</p><p>Dean sighs in resignation, Cas cropping up in his head at the idea of having a partner is just cruel. Cruel to him and cruel to Cas, a man with such promise and capabilities, to imagine him stuck to someone like Dean for the rest of his life. What can Dean offer to him that he doesn't already have? What can Dean do for him considering the life he’s led? It matters not, Dean may be privy and well versed to immoral actions in the eyes of God but Cas, Cas was—he’s cut off as words flit through his mind, <em>‘you know nothing of the affairs I may partake in’</em>. As he had that night, Dean still doesn't know what Cas meant with that statement. And as that night, he still desperately wants to.</p><p>He knows it doesn't matter, either which way, Cas is as untouchable as they come. His feelings, whatever they are, mean nothing here. He needs to focus on the fact that he will be leaving this farm, soon. As protection for himself and this family. The longer he stays the longer he’s at risk, the longer he’s putting Cas—Cas’ family at risk.</p><p>Dean has no clue what to expect from tomorrow. If Cas is truly leaving for town is he supposed to carry on as normal and work through the chores anyways, or should he focus on Ibby instead? And who’s to bring him dinner if Charles and Cas are both unable to.</p>
<hr/><p>As it turns out Cas doesn't leave for town when the day breaks, he does however spend most of the day in the house, delivering Dean’s breakfast and relaying the tasks for the day before disappearing back inside, the telltale sound of little children running across the flooring spreads out from the open door in the early light.</p><p>Dean sets to work quickly, running through the chores and the extra work that had piled up the last couple days. He fixes what needs to be fixed, like the loose boards on the side of the barn, he resets the fencing around the trough pens, making sure the ground isn't getting chewed up enough for any animals to weasel their way through. It's easy work, nothing he hasn’t done before. Cas pops out a few times throughout the day to ask if he’s okay before heading back inside.</p><p>It’s… nice in a way, to be so useful, it makes this family sticking their neck out for him, even though they don't know it, feel less like he’s using them because at least it's mutually beneficial.</p><p>The maintenance work amounts to the bits and pieces Charles had pointed out on his first day that he hadn’t had a chance to get to yet and they take him most of the early morning to get through.</p><p>After the extra work is done, he makes sure to do his normal duties, not wanting to leave them to pile up as well. With Cas in the house, he’s not as distracted as he would normally be and he wants to monopolize on the moments of productivity. Though he still finds himself looking to the house occasionally to see if Cas is coming back or even just standing by a window, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.</p><p>He takes a bucket to the ground spout, filling it repeatedly to clean the troughs before filling them. In the machine shed, he inspects each piece they’ve gone over, checking how they work in more depth.</p><p>It’s slipped well past midday, the sun bleeding into the west sky, before Dean’s in the stables, he checks each of the horse's shoes and sets to work on cleaning and trimming where needed. He takes Ibby for a thorough run but doesn't continue on to starting him on machine tack, reasoning that Cas or Charles should be part of his breaking in.</p><p>From across the stable Ringer starts huffing, Charles had said that he was to stay away from Ringer because he was a bit of a firecracker but he’d never actually met a horse that hasn't taken to him. And without either of the other men to dissuade him, he walks slowly to the far end of the stables.</p><p>His reasoning’s sound, once Ibby is done, or near enough to it, he’ll be expected to work on Ringer at least in part. And without knowing how long he will be on the farm—despite his hesitation at staying too long—since there was no way to know how long Charles would be away, he figures that getting some time in with the boy is only going to benefit him in the ‘long term’.</p><p>Striding up beside him, Dean’s a bit taken aback by the impressive stance of the horse. Ringer stands just taller than him, larger than most horses so Dean stands up on the siding of his stall to get a good look at him.</p><p>The ledge his toes are on isn’t the best, a scant inch at most and before Dean is even properly up on it his toe slips the slightest bit. Cursing to himself he shifts again moving up the wall. It's a terrible position for what he wants to do, but it's the only way to get access to Ringer without opening the stall and risking it.</p><p>Dean manages to wedge himself, albeit with a lot less stability than he would like, against the high post of the stall and the hatch door, his knee on the top of the door and his other foot is swung into the stall and rests in the middle of the wall on the fence rail with only his heel planted on the thin strip of wood.</p><p>“Hey there boy,” Dean calls gently to focus the horse’s attention. “Shh, shh hey now,” he continues when Ringer gets a tad bit uppity with him being there. He wants to hop down into the stall with him, to properly get on the right foot with him but without the other men he doesn’t think it would be a great idea.</p><p>“See I’m not so bad, Ibby seems to like me just fine, you’ll warm up to me soon enough.” His voice is soft, gentle, the way you would talk to a crying baby late at night, soothing and calm. A pang of longing spreads through his chest when he realizes that he has no memories of either of his parents, or anyone else for that matter, talking to him in such a way.</p><p>Dean reaches his hand out, unwinding it from the post, and holds it there, hoping Ringer will investigate his limb, get used to his smell, his touch. As he does so his mind traitorously strays to Cas. He wonders if Cas has those pure and soft memories of adoring parents wishing him sweet dreams, praying with him at the side of his bed, kissing his head as it rests on his pillow. He wonders if Cas uses that same voice with his siblings, if he sings them songs at night when nightmares have woken them up, if he reads them stories in the dim candle and lamplight.</p><p>He wonders if he’ll ever have a chance to hear such a voice again, the love so apparent in each word that from a mile away you could see it. Feel it with every part of you, even if it’s directed at someone else.</p><p>In hindsight, he shouldn't have let himself get distracted like he did. Especially not around a horse that doesn't exactly like him, or anyone for that matter. Dean’s cursing himself as the scene unfolds in front of him, years, <em>years</em> spent working with horses, learning how to take care of them, gaining his only profitable skill—profitable legal skill anyways—he knows how to break in a horse, how to act around them and treat them. How to tell when they are anxious and overwhelmed and likely to not act so kindly.</p><p>It all seems to go in slow motion, his mind reaching the ending long before his body does. Ringer huffs again, but not like he had been before, Dean’s hand has rested itself along his shoulder and it's clear that he’s not happy about it.</p><p>Dean blames his ridiculously unstable position he’s in for what happens next.</p><p>Ringer shuffles around, enough force behind the giant animal to ragdoll the best of them, Dean’s arm gets shoved back into his shoulder, knocking his center off, his knee shifts and his foot, having nothing to hold on to on the plank of wood, slips out. The force of the knock sends his arms pinwheeling and his stomach dropping out of his body.</p><p>It's not often he gets to feel like he’s flying, but he’s not particularly fond of this experience currently.</p><p>Pain slices up his leg, tensing his body again just before white-hot spikes of pain surrounds his left shoulder and arm.</p><p>Dean lays there for a minute, maybe ten, taking stock of what's happened. His breath got knocked out of him when he landed and his vision is hazy at the edges, the ceiling of the stable swimming around, disorienting and confusing. One of his arms is pinned under his body, he thinks he must have rolled onto it before his body settled, but all seems okay with it. He moves his non-trapped arm to lift his body off the ground and shouts out in pain before he can even put pressure on it.</p><p>Looking down Dean sees his shoulder doesn't quite look the same and now that he’s noticed the problem with his arm, he can feel how the blade of his shoulder digs into the ground at an angle he’s not familiar with.</p><p>Shuffling again, he can’t help the noises of pain that slips unabated through his lips as he frees his trapped arm and uses it to lift himself from the ground. Well, he tries to lift himself from the ground but the movement of his shoulder has him curling upon himself in pain. A groan rips itself from his throat as several more, less intense, waves of pain crash around him, radiating from his shoulder down his arm and into his chest. He gives up quickly on trying to get his arm out from under his body.</p><p>Distantly he thinks he hears his name being called but the pain is clouding a good portion of his brain.</p><p>He tries to move again, but the angle at which he fell seems to be limiting the movement of his good arm so much that he can’t feasibly shuffle himself around without the sharp bursts of pain. Just as he’s about to shout in vain for Cas or anyone really his soundless plea is drowned by a shout.</p><p>“Dean! Dean!” The voice isn’t panicked but it’s booming, loud enough to filter clearly through the light haze the pain is causing him.</p><p>Dean cranes his neck to see the doorway and hisses at the pain the shift causes.</p><p>“Dean. Are you in the stables? Dean!”</p><p>“Ya! I’m in here,” he shouts, silently thankful his breath had come back enough to make that more than a weak wheeze.</p><p>“Dean… oh shit! What happened?”</p><p>“Damn Cas don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse before. Didn’t know I was so special.”</p><p>“Dean, I heard shouting, what happened,” Cas says, ignoring him completely, he’s holding back, his chest heaving after what Dean can only assume was a run to find him. “You’re hurt?”</p><p>“Yea, I think I did somethin’ to my shoulder, it doesn't feel right and I can’t really move it.”</p><p>“What happened though, how’d you end up on the ground?”</p><p>“I was tryna make friends with Ringer over there but mister had other ideas and he tipped me back,” Dean says with a head jerk and a cut-off laugh at the horse that seems to care not about the pain he’s caused. “Landed right on my shoulder, think it might have broken but I’m not sure.”</p><p>“Can you get up?”</p><p>Dean shakes his head, blinking against the jostling of his torso that it causes, and the spike of pain it sends down his back. Whatever he’s done to himself, it's not pretty.</p><p>“It’s gonna hurt but we need to get you off the ground, my ma can help, she’s patched us up more times than we can count. So we’ve got to get you to her.” Cas moves around his body and hovers his hand a few inches above his hip.</p><p>He knows it’s to free his other arm so that Cas can help him from his prone position but his mind, ever the traitor it is, can’t help but flash to them in a similar position but for a vastly different reason, Cas above him, asking for permission to lay his hands on Dean’s body, the pain not coming from an injury but from a steady push into his body.</p><p>Dean’s face flushes at the thought, and the rouging is made worse by the fact that Cas is currently standing over him still, looking at his face for his response to the unspoken question.</p><p>Dean nods, his shoulder drives itself into the ground as his body is moved on that side more. With all the injuries he sustained in his life, he thinks he must be going soft if this one is causing so much trouble for him.</p><p>“Do I even want to ask why Ringer was able to throw you around like this, I thought my pa had told you to stay away from him.”</p><p>“Like I said, I was tryna make friends, if I’m gonna be working on him soon as Ibby’s done I figured it best to build a friendship with him as quick as I could,” he forces out as Cas frees his trapped arm.</p><p>Now laying flat on his back Cas reaches up and lightly grips Dean’s left wrist, looking up again he says, “This is gonna hurt Dean.” before he moves it up to his opposite shoulder.</p><p>Choking out a laugh through the pain he replies, “You got that right, fuck.”</p><p>Cas eyebrows raise but he doesn't comment, instead he gets Dean to roll again while he keeps Dean’s arm pinned against his chest. Once he’s able to get his knees under him with Cas’ help he stands, the rushing of his blood sending him pitching forward at the pain and causing him to laugh again in response.</p><p>“You know Dean, I don't think I’ve ever met someone who laughs while in pain,” Cas says as he gently lays a hand on the back of Dean’s non-injured shoulder. It stretches from his fingers splayed on the flat bone of his shoulder to the heel of his hand on his ribs. He valiantly fights the shudder that tries to make its way through his body.</p><p>“It helps, believe me, as long as you ain’t laughing too much it’ll distract from the pain just long enough,” Dean says as he starts off towards the house.</p><p>“Hey hey! Dean, wait stop! You’re bleeding,” Cas says jogging up to him. He looks back and is surprised to see a decently sized pool of blood on the stable ground.</p><p>Peering down at his body to find the source of the blood, he catches sight of his ripped pant leg and the stain of blood seeping from the tear. Kicking his left leg out to shift the fabric away his stomach turns at the nearly four inch gash along his shin.</p><p>“Well shit, I guess I am.” He offers a weak smile that he can tell Cas doesn't buy for a second, “Can your ma patch that up too? I’d hate to get a scar,” Dean says more playfully.</p><p>“You're impossible, you know that don’t you?”</p><p>“What? C’mon Cas it's a bit of blood, I've been dealt worse before. If your ma’s got a bit of wrap I’ll be fine.” It's a lot harder to convince Cas considering he's walking with a limp now that he’s noticed the cut.</p><p>There's always been something about how blood flows whenever pressure is added that turns his stomach. Each step towards the house sends a small wave of blood streaming down his leg and he can’t tell if it's the blood loss or the general disgust towards the feeling that has him a bit woozy.</p><p>One of the things that helped him most through his life was the adrenaline that would course like fire through his veins, he supposes it helped keep him from this weak feeling.</p><p>“Just, don't fall over while I run ahead to get my ma, okay can you manage that Dean?”</p><p>Rolling his eyes he throws a quick, “Of course.” before Cas is taking off towards the house at a much faster clip.</p><p>Dean makes it within ten yards when Cas and his ma exit the house. In her arms is a decently sized chest which he hopes has some medical supplies.</p><p>He stands up best he can, easing his weight onto his bad leg and trying his best to straighten up from the hunched position his back has settled into while cradling his arm and shoulder, it's not lost on him that this is the first time meeting Cas’ mother in his week on the farm.</p><p>As Cas makes his way back over to Dean, he raises his good arm, “Afternoon Ma’am, I'm terribly sorry to have to pull you away from what you were doing, but I do appreciate the help a lot.” Cas raises an eyebrow at him, silently commenting on his change in demeanour and stands close by as he makes his way up the few steps of the porch. Cas grabs Dean’s elbow as he climbs but drops it like it’s branded him when he knows Dean’s stable.</p><p>“I’m not sure if you were told, but I fell onto my shoulder and I can hardly move it, and I've seemed to have scratched myself up quite badly at the same time. I'm sorry to trouble you with having to patch me up.”</p><p>“Oh stop apologizing boy, I’ve got fourteen children, the eldest few have children of their own, I’ve seen and dealt with worse than this in my life. Now if you’d so please, sit on the chair there and we can get started on fixing you up.”</p><p>He tries to not let the fact that Cas hadn’t shared his name with his family bother him, the title isn’t even a full day old, but it stings differently to have a name and for it not to be used.</p><p>Sitting in the chair Cas’ mother appraises him, she rounds his back and tsks soundly, and as odd as it seems Dean feels like he's failed a test he hadn't known he’d been taking.</p><p>“Castiel, he needs to take the shirt off, I can’t tell for sure with the fabric in the way if it's a break or a dislocation.” Panic swells in Dean's chest at the forthcoming pain and the map of scars across his torso that will surely raise questions, especially with Cas’ ma, about where he’s come from and what he's done to end up with the marks littering his skin.</p><p>He catches Cas’ eye, pleading as best he can that he schools his face. He wants to fight it, to make sure his shirt stays on but he doesn’t think Cas’ ma will agree to that.</p><p>Dean sucks in a quick breath, clenching his jaw in anticipation of the pain while he tries to keep his body as untensed as possible.</p><p>Cas comes over to Dean’s right side and lifts the shirt from its hem, Dean slides his right arm through the sleeve and ducks his head through its hole. Now essentially bare from waist up he tenses, acutely aware of the eyes on him as Cas and his ma work the shirt gently down the injured arm.</p><p>He hisses in pain as they shift his arm around to unstick the fabric from his underarm. He chances a glance at the injured area and gasps lowly at the bruising that is already starting to bloom around the joint. The joint which looks distinctly different from how it’s looked at any other point in his life. His muscles slope downwards and what he can only imagine is his bone protrudes sickeningly from a few inches past the curve of his shoulder.</p><p>Cas gasps behind him and Dean shuts his eyes, wishing Cas was better at hiding his reactions. “Ma?” he says and motions the woman over.</p><p>“Where’d you get this burn from?” she asks and Dean curses internally, in the rush of the new injuries he’d forgotten about hiding the rope lashes on his right shoulder.</p><p>He avoids eye contact with Cas despite the man trying fervently to catch his gaze, “My pack cord caused it Ma’am, it's not troubling me I assure you. I wouldn’t want you wasting your time on something like that, not when you're already gonna be helpin’ me so much as is.”</p><p>“Don’t listen to him Ma I’ve seen him wincing from the pain more than once, I didn’t know it was like this or I’d have done something about it myself,” Cas says as his ma opens the chest, inside is more medical supplies than he’s seen in most clinics he’s stumbled into before.</p><p>“Boy, what do you want done first, resetting your shoulder, dealing with your burn or the cut you’ve got on your leg?”</p><p>“Uh… shoulder I think Ma’am.”</p><p>“Right then, Castiel please come keep him steady.” Dean’s body heats up when Cas lays his hand on his bare arm and back, he knows Cas can feel the scars along the sinews of muscle, knows he can see the way they swallow up the freckles that litter his skin, the only thing that does so more than the scars. “Now this is going to hurt, I’m going to count to three and realign the joint, try to stay as loose as possible or it will only hurt more.”</p><p>“Ma’am I would just like to say I’m real sorry for any curses you may be forced to hear when you fix it up. I'll try my best to bite my tongue but I felt it necessary to apologize regardless.”</p><p>“I’ve got a husband and eight sons only three of which are younger than Castiel, while I appreciate the warning it’s not necessary.”</p><p>“Cas is your ma tellin’ me you’ve sworn a blue streak around her before. Colour me surprised I must say.” Dean gets no response from Cas so his smile falters into non-existence and he steels himself for the relocation.</p><p>“Castiel are you ready, I need you to be holding him steady now before he tenses with pain.” He tries to relax, closing his eyes and breathing as steadily as he can. He can’t see Cas nod but assumes he must have as he feels Cas’ fingers dig into his skin more. “Okay, I’m getting your arm in the correct place to reset it, this is going to hurt,” Dean grimaces at the grinding shift he can feel in his shoulder, “Now on three, one—.” His breath is punched from his lungs with a shout as Cas’ ma shoves with more force than he would think she’d have and rolls his shoulder back into its socket.</p><p>“Ahh hehh,” Dean stutters a short laugh out through his hard breathing, “Hmm you weren't kidding about that huh?” he groans as he rolls his shoulder, the grinding feelings sticking around a bit longer than he would have liked.</p><p>“No reason to sugar coat it now is there?” she replies easily. “Stop rolling your joint. Castiel could you run inside and grab the Vaseline please, we need to cover the burn to prevent it from getting any worse, it should be upstairs, Duma skinned her knee a few weeks ago, that was the last time anyone had cause to use it. I’m going to inspect his cut to see if it needs stitches before I begin to work on it after I bandage up his shoulder.”</p><p>Cas gives his ma a quick look of apprehension before slowly pivoting and walking into the house.</p><p>They both are quiet as she unwraps the fabric for his sling, it's quick enough work, folding his arm in against his chest again and wrapping around and under and over in a crossing pattern across his chest and under his arm until he feels quite like he imagines a child wrapped in blankets would feel.</p><p>Dean begins to wonder if they will sit in silence until Cas returns with the Vaseline but as his ma sits on the other chair and sets her sights on his mangled leg, she strikes up a short conversation.</p><p>“I’d have thought that with all these scars you would be better able to avoid injury, and yet here you are with three all at once.”</p><p>It seems that Cas didn’t get his apparent habit of not asking a vagrant, and a stranger at that, about his past from his ma, Dean thinks as he squirms a bit at the feeling of her fingers prodding at the sides of the gash.</p><p>“Unfortunately it seems that I haven't learned much from past experiences, I should probably work on that huh?” Dean says in a clipped tone, both from anger and pain.</p><p>“I can't think it would do you harm,” she pauses. “This cut doesn't go incredibly deep, half an inch at the worst of it, I don't think you’ll need stitches which is good as doing so—well it isn't something I would go for, but I will wrap it with gauze to seal the wound as best as possible. They’ll be a scar, there's no avoiding that and I suspect one on your raw shoulder as well.” Dean nods, he’d expected as much, what's a few more scars to his collection especially if they’ve got a shareable story behind them.</p><p>“Will the leg heal up well though, quickly?” he asks. If he’s kept off his leg he’s not sure what will happen, would Charles send him off as he can no longer help, would they make him stay until it was healed, and if the latter how could he make sure that his past transgressions don’t endanger the family that’s helping him so incredibly.</p><p>“It’ll hurt that’s for damned sure, you probably won’t be able to put much weight on it for a few days, a week maybe, your leg isn't the only issue mind you, the shoulder will stay in the sling, there's no two ways about it, and you’ll have to keep from using it as it heals, the body isn’t used to trauma like that and it won’t be much fun. Give it a week or so and you can start with using it again after the swelling has gone down.”</p><p>Cas comes back out of the house with the tin of Vaseline just as his ma grabs a bottle of dark liquid. “Boy this is going to sting, I’m cleaning the cut now so just sit still.”</p><p>Dean’s experienced similar pain before, pouring some drink on any cut or burn to clean it before letting it be, however he learns very quickly that the real stuff hurts a whole lot more than some gin or the like. Since he can’t walk off the pain, he just sits there tapping his foot to the porch and hums tersely through gritted teeth.</p><p>“Heya Cas, you enjoying the show?” Dean says looking over his shoulder where Cas is standing.</p><p>“Not particularly, no,” he says in response before turning his focus to his ma. “Should I start on the burn Ma?” Cas isn't rewarded with a verbal response, his ma too absorbed in inspecting Dean’s leg to do anything more than nod.</p><p>“Sorry about this,” Cas says as he takes the wash and pours it over the lashing, Dean hisses against the pain but his mind is elsewhere.</p><p>In the amount of time that he’s had a name Cas has used it so often it might seem unnatural and yet he’s not said it once since he went to get his ma. Before he can even begin his descent into the rabbit hole Dean’s knocked from his thoughts as Cas’ ma begins to wind layers of gauze around his shin, tight enough that the throbbing that he’d all but forgotten about kicks up several notches and reminds him of his stupidity at getting himself in this situation.</p><p>Cas applies some of the jelly unto the burns and wraps a square of gauze against it and uses some sort of strip to secure it to Dean’s skin. He watches as Cas’ ma does the same to the wrap on his leg before clapping her hands together and getting up from where she had been sitting through the whole ordeal.</p><p>“Ma’am I would just like to apologize again for you having to do this and to thank you for helping me as you just have. You didn't need to, it was my own fault for hurting myself and I just wanted to say that this was all mighty kind of you,” Dean says quickly.</p><p>“I’ve been patching kids up for twenty-four years and I don't think I’ve ever once been thanked so kindly before.”</p><p>Dean throws a look to Cas who has the decency to look at least a little chastised. He smiles in spite of himself, Cas looks quite endearing with that look on his face.</p><p>“Okay, there's nothing more to do except send you off to the barn, you’ll rest up the rest of the day, Castiel will be out with your supper later on.” She starts to gather up her supplies, soiled cloths rolled up and secured together, she hands one to Cas who wipes off the excess jelly, and a wetted one to Dean who takes it and starts to wipe off the blood that's caked to his legs. He can’t save his pants, but he has the one other pair in his pack that he supposes will be fine to use.</p><p>“If you want, I could get my daughter to sew up the tear, I can’t do much for the stains but a solid pant leg is better than nothing.”</p><p>“Yes thank you Ma’am and tell your daughter thank you as well.” Dean looks down again, his socks and shoes are beyond help but that's no bother.</p><p>“Castiel, once you're done helping me put everything back, you’ll pick up the trousers, yes?”</p><p>“Yes Ma.”</p><p>She starts for the door with Cas trailing behind her and Dean’s left to hobble his way down the stairs, good arm—despite the burn—on the railing to stabilize him and slowly makes his way to the barn. Cas’ ma was right, the leg <em>hurts</em> every step causing another wave of pain down to the soles of his foot.</p><p>Once in the privacy of the barn, he steps out of his pants, folding them before he struggles his way into his only other pair.</p><p>Oddly out of breath but decently clothed again, he figures he can do nothing about the fact that he’s shirtless still and waits for Cas to finish helping his ma. The barn is quiet without Remy there, something he noticed in the days since she last spent time here is that without her huffing the barn seems a lot less welcoming.</p><p>Dean’s not sure how long he sits waiting but it’s no trouble to sit waiting for him. The pain in his leg thankfully calms down a lot once he’s stopped using it but still, Dean worries again what that means for his ability to work on the farm, but he reasons that breaking in Ibby surely couldn't be overly labour intensive, and he could start working on the machines, making sure they run as they should and all the connections are free of rust and aren’t a few hard pulls away from snapping.</p><p>When he does hear the door clatter against its frame, the butterflies return to his stomach and he fiddles nervously, glancing down at his bare chest and its gnarly appearance with a scowl. He shouldn’t care one way or the other how Cas finds his chest. It shouldn't bother him in the slightest if he reacts in disgust or with apprehension. And he most certainly shouldn't hope for him to react as though they intrigue him, as though they make him more enticing <em>or</em> even as though they are nothing special, simply part of him and not remarkable at all. And so he doesn't, or he tries not to, but Dean’s never been the best at schooling his emotions. His scars are a testament to that.</p><p>Cas rounds the corner and pulls up short for a second before recovering and crouching down next to Dean. In response to Dean’s raised brow Cas says, “Not in my dinner clothes, don’t have to worry about the dirt.”</p><p>Dean makes an appeasing face and tilts his head back against the wall.</p><p>“Can I check your bandages really quickly; Ma wants to make sure you aren't spewing blood still as you had been.” Dean nods as he lifts his clean pant leg, not interested in staining both pairs in the slightest. “I’ll be the one who changes the bandages when needed, if that's okay with you.”</p><p>“Yeah that's fine,” he pauses as Cas moves to the burn on his shoulder, the nerves in his stomach turning into something a lot less innocent when Dean hears him tsking at what he finds. “Is something wrong with my shoulder?” he asks, keeping his voice as unconcerned as he can. The last thing he needs is a fever.</p><p>“No, it's just the jelly is seeping into the gauze more than I thought it would, and at this point it looks no different from the fluid the burns could be making. But I looked at it not half an hour ago so I know it’s fine, we’ll just have to keep an eye on it so that if it does start with the pus, we don’t miss it.”</p><p>“How’d you learn to do all this stuff?”</p><p>“My ma didn’t think she’d ever settle down, she's told us as much before. She went to college,” he pauses at Dean’s expression before clarifying, “My mother's side of the family is quite influential, affluent even, so she was able to go to college, she studied and worked but then she met my pa. I don't think she ever regretted her choice to be a mother over becoming a nurse until Gadreel.” Cas looks down at his hands, brushing some of the dust off of his palms from where he had used them to balance himself while checking Dean’s leg. He lets out a heavy breath and continues, “She taught us all to some degree, most of it was as a punishment of sorts. If we caused the injury to whomever we needed to be responsible for it getting dealt with so they could get better.”</p><p>“With how good you seemed to be at helping I can only assume you roughed up your siblings a fair bit in your youth,” Dean tries at humour and watches as it falls just shy of landing as he’d hoped, the smile that passes over Cas’ features is as fleeting as the calm of the morning before the birds wake.</p><p>“Not quite,” he says as the smile fades away, “I took a liking to it, being able to help people, see how my hands could heal, my Ma took notice and allowed me to take part anytime one of my siblings needed help,” he finishes just as he’s done with the bandage checks, he had at some point moved to his wrapped shoulder and moved it gently back and forth. Dean supposes to check the range of motion and his mother's work, although he couldn't imagine her doing a poor job.</p><p>Dean can tell that Cas wants to ask about the scars, he can tell that as much as he wants to, he equally doesn't, both because he knows it to be crass to do as such, and because he might not want to know the stories they carry.</p><p>“Back in the valley, we didn’t go to the doctor if something needed to be patched. More often than not we’d head to the saloon, clean the thing best we could and slap a piece of fabric over it for the blood. I don’t think I've ever seen as many supplies in one place as your ma’s got in that box,” he offers, perhaps as a starting point.</p><p>“She’s been having to patch us all up for so long she reasoned it might be a smart idea to have the necessities on hand. It saved us many a time from having to ride into the town for something as small as a cut or a skinned knee caused by an overly excited older sibling, plus I suppose it taught us about the repercussions of our actions.”</p><p>“Seems a bit harsh though, I mean kids are gonna run and tussle till the day's end, you couldn’t have thought as a kid that something like that would result from playing.” The humour is gone from Dean’s voice as he makes sense of what Cas is telling him.</p><p>Kids are meant to play, they are meant to get roughed up now and again, having their siblings make them better isn't their job. Ma’s and Pa’s should be kissin’ knees and making their kids apologize not forcing them into facing the unseemliness of an injury. There's a reason you tell a child to look away from the cut or what have you, they are nowhere near old enough to handle that.</p><p>A part of his mind laughs at its own reasoning. His mild outrage at the course Cas’ life had taken and how he was forced into, and then allowed to continue, helping his siblings. Dean never got that choice, and yet when it came to him, he never stopped to be upset about the fact that from younger than he can remember he was face to face with some of the mild horrors of the world. A busted brow, or a knife cut on the back of a shoulder, an infection or a bone needing to be reset, instead of scraped knees and bruises that most childhoods are filled with, his never got to be.</p><p>Yes of course he ended up with some cuts and bruises as did Sam but early childhood playground wounds quickly turned to those requiring doctors’ visits, though they never actually went.</p><p>“Perhaps it was, but it allowed for me to be able to help you when you stupidly tried to make friends with Ringer,” Cas says pointedly. Dean can tell that he’s annoyed, but about the topic or the fact that a horse got the jump on him, he isn't sure.</p><p>“And for that,” he says, realizing that Cas finished his check up minutes ago but hasn't made any move to leave, “I am grateful. Do you think you could help me back into my shirt? There's no way I’ll be able to do it myself—I could barely get my trousers on alone—and I would like it on before the day starts to cool down too much.”</p><p>“Yes I can help with that, it’ll be a bit trickier just the two of us but I reckon we’ll manage just fine.”</p><p>Dean sits up and shuffles away from the wall, the fact that his shoulder is wrapped and secure making the task much less painful than before.</p><p>Dean avoids Cas’ eye as he tosses him his shirt. When Cas comes to stand behind him he knows just how many of his scars the man is able to see. The spider web scars that reach down from his ear from a time when glass shattered frequently over his head. The puck scars along his forearm from the burns of cigarettes that were put out against him for pissing people off too often.</p><p>He can tell that Cas is biting his tongue against the onslaught of questions that his brain is concocting, so he again tries for humour, “Told you Cas, disreputable could be my middle name.”</p><p>Cas helps him slide his arm into his shirt sleeve, then his head, staying silent the entire time. It's unnerving, for the first time in a while Dean feels uncomfortable in Cas’ presence. Maybe the scars are too much for him, it’s easy to ignore his past when you are faced with it so gruesomely.</p><p>The thought churns something ugly in his chest, as though he’s only worth something to Cas when his past remains a mystery, just another puzzle to solve. He wants to get bitter and angry; he wants to confront Cas about it, but he’s mostly just tired, let down in a way he didn’t know he could be. He wishes Cas would leave, go back to his happy life and stop making him feel special, stop pretending that he’s worth something when it’s so clear to him that he’s not much more than nothing.</p><p>He’s about to shove Cas’ hand off of him with an aggressive roll of his good shoulder when Cas’ hand trails its way down the length of his back, sliding gently over the ridges of scars he’s all but forgotten about, ones caused by falling on broken glass and knives and brass knuckles, ones he doesn’t remember getting, ones he can't ever forget.</p><p>His shirt is rucked up against Cas’ wrist, the slowly moving fabric adding to the myriad of sensations sprouting from the gentle caress.</p><p>It’s over as fast as it began, Dean’s shirt sways from its quick drop and the trail of Cas’ fingers feels red hot and completely cold along his skin. He knows his face is flushed, he can feel it curl around his neck and disappear beneath his freshly donned shirt. The heat in his body doesn't stop there, it sprouts in his chest when he’s unable to remember a time when someone was that gentle with his broken body. And most unfortunately heat curls itself round in his groin. With a brief shift of his hips he realizes he’s nearly half hard in his trousers, glad for the fact that his shirt covers his crotch.</p><p>He thinks it's ridiculous for his body to be so affected by something so insignificant. He’s been no saint in his life, and something as minor as a hand on his skin shouldn’t elicit such a response, yet here he is, his body ricocheting from tense and unnerved to willing, pliant, wanting, from a simple touch.</p><p>Dean reminds himself that as far as he knows Cas is completely off limits, in more ways than one, and that whatever it is he feels, whatever it is that's been growing against his will since his first night here needs to be ignored for his own sake.</p><p>“You know scars can often mean someone else did disreputable acts against you, I still think that you are blaming far too much on yourself.”</p><p>“It takes two to fight Cas, or it takes one to spur on a fight and one to hit. In my case, it's a bit of both.”</p><p>Cas looks at him as though he doesn't believe him, and he ignores his better judgement again as he begins, “The scars along my arm and legs are from pissing off the wrong people, in any number of ways. The ones on my head are from drunken fights that no one can remember who started; the crooked line of my nose takes its place in that list too. The ones on my face, the ones you’ve already seen, are from patrolmen, angry angry men who’ve got too much power held within a piece of paper, or worse, held in their finger balanced on a trigger, which is exactly how I got my bullet scars.” He stares as Cas willing him to understand that whatever pretenses he has about Dean are false, born from the mislead belief that everyone is good, that everyone is the recipient of poor fortune and not the cause of it.</p><p>Cas looks back at him and rolls up the sleeve of his shirt. “This was from the time I got in a fight with a man in town,” he says pointing to a scar that must be a few inches long. “He pulled a knife and before I knew it Ma was sticking a needle in my arm to sew it up. Would you like to know the reason for the fight?” Dean nods when he sees that Cas is actually asking. “The man had figured that I didn't belong there and that I was a threat, I was in my work clothes, I hadn't shaved and my skin was dirty from work, it didn't matter to him who I was, all that mattered was what he thought as the truth what he deemed was necessary.”</p><p>“Dean, yours may have less kind origins but they are no more your fault than this is mine. You were trying to survive, you’ve told me as much if not in so many words, hell I’ve given and been given scars for what I’ve done for a bit of my sister’s baking, and that was purely a want, not a need. You can’t survive without effort; you can’t survive without fighting.”</p><p>“You think too highly of me, Cas.”</p><p>“You think too poorly of yourself, Dean,” he says back with no room for argument in his voice.</p><p>Dean holds Cas’ gaze until the look in his eyes becomes too much. The heat he felt but couldn't name when Cas’ hand touched his back is there again, settling between them, heavy as the midday sun, and just as distracting.</p><p>It's not a wanting feeling he’s used to, he wants to do more than finally give in to the desire to know him physically, there's a softer desire coupled with that want, one that he never let himself dream he could have. One that he knows Cas deserves.</p><p>A stone settles into Dean’s chest as his mind painfully provides that he will never be the one to give Cas that life.</p><p>He doesn't know why it still hurts to be reminded of that, he’s known since his childhood that he wasn’t the type of person that would end up with a respectable individual, much less considering the fact that Cas was a man, a man who still had not shown one way or the other where his ‘special interests’ may lie.</p><p>“No one thinks highly of themselves Cas,” Dean says evasively.</p><p>“No, but most people allow for others to do so for them.”</p><p>“I suppose I’m not most people.”</p><p>“You certainly are not,” Cas replies, the heat in his gaze resounding in its intensity, and Dean wishes that just once he could read the man better.</p><p>Cas stands abruptly and grabs for Dean’s torn pants, the blush staining his cheeks does not go unnoticed by Dean and it infuriates him that he can’t ask, that it’s too risky to expose himself as such. He stays seated as Cas looks around.</p><p>“I’ll be back with your supper in a couple of hours.”</p><p>He may not be able to ask outright but he figures he knows a way to imply with just enough ambiguity as to not cast aspersions, “Bring the flask?”</p><p>Cas pauses and looks at him, his gaze intent as he studies Dean before replying, “Of course.”</p><p>Dean can’t help but feel like that was a sort of win for them.</p>
<hr/><p>One week on the Novak’s farm turned to two, which turned to three almost as quickly, but that wasn’t to say that a lot hadn’t happened or that the farm was at all calm. Dean’s shoulder had healed quite well, though it clicked sometimes as the temperature changed throughout the day, especially as night approached.</p><p>The bruising had been the worst part, with the pain diminishing a few days after the incident and the mobility returning before a week had passed. He was out of the sling after only three redressings—the fabric untied only to check his healing and his joints mobility—but the bruising had still been an issue, yellow and green splotches stretched around the curve of his shoulder and across the blade of it on his back, it made sleeping an extra pain as he’d taken to moving around again after his binding had been done away with.</p><p>His burns had cleared up leaving an addition to his scar collection in the form of faint pink lashings across the top of his right shoulder. Luckily for him, they’d never festered, Cas had redressed them daily, checking for issues and changes.</p><p>He was lost as Cas did so, both in his presence and in terms of the care of his injury so he sat back as Cas worked. Cas’d said that he was lucky the wound stayed clean or he’d have had to have had an unpleasant chat with his ma about the infection—in which she likely would have reprimanded him like he’d never experienced, which he believed, a parents anger was much different from a stranger though no less frightening—and he’d been grateful that for once the forces of the universe had been on his side.</p><p>The wound on his leg hadn’t been as cooperative as the other injuries, the binding on his leg hadn’t done as much as Cas and his ma had hoped to close up the wound, and it had to be sewn up. He’d only ever had something like that done to him once before. Luckily for him though the one time he’d done it had been with poor tools and as such had hurt a fair deal more than when Cas’ ma took the needle to his leg.</p><p>After that ordeal it had stopped being too much of a trouble, it twinged when he would put weight on it and it felt better when he raised it up at night when he slept.</p><p>The stitches had been removed after about two weeks, something he was tremendously thankful for. The fabric of his pant leg would catch on the ends of the threads and tug at the skin with every movement and he’d grown quite tired of it, and the mild pain that accompanied it. It was an annoyance more than it was actually painful but the feeling was altogether unpleasant and not having to deal with it was a blessing.</p><p>As much as the whole thing had annoyed him, it wasn’t all bad. Every day Cas would check the stitches and the cut itself, having him that close was becoming intoxicating and Dean wished that the nearness wasn't because of his injuries but rather because Cas found himself drawn into Dean’s orbit as Dean found himself drawn into Cas’.</p><p>On his ninth day on the farm, Hannah had returned feeling a far sight better than she had according to Cas. She was still on rest but she was home, and Dean could feel the farm and its occupants release a collective sigh of relief at the good news.</p><p>Cas had told him one night that an old cut had gotten infected, a small branch had gone into her arm as she played but it had seemingly healed, however beneath the closed skin it festered and made her ill. The doctor in town was able to catch it in time, keeping her there to have it monitored with the utmost care as the reopened wound healed again.</p><p>Cas had grown happier with his sister home, Dean suspected that with the family's history, a sick child was bound to be tough on him no matter the fact that it wasn't his fault, that neither of them was his fault.</p><p>When Charles returned to the farm, and Dean’s body had still been healing, the work Cas had been given increased; but regardless, he still spent the majority of his day with Dean. Cas had been right, talking to each other had made their time together go by faster and had also made the work easier.</p><p>Their lessons together spanned longer and Dean’s abilities had been growing steadily as they moved onto more complex books. More often than not, Dean read as Cas focused on some of his own work, be it work for the farm or his own education. He seemed to not mind the fact that Dean had quietly read aloud to better familiarize himself with the words on the pages.</p><p>Dean had also noticed an odd shift in Cas’ behaviour once his father returned. He’d become more reserved around Dean if Charles was present, less likely to joke or engage with him, and in turn, Dean had followed his example, though, not as much as he maybe should.</p><p>The difference between how Cas had acted when he and Dean were alone versus around his father was almost night and day. Dean wasn’t going to lie to himself, he liked the Cas he knows privately a lot more than the one he is forced to know publicly.</p><p>Dean wants to think that a change had occurred between him and Cas. The man was quicker with wit and far bolder than he had been in Dean’s first week with him. Dean had noticed that during all the time spent checking and tending to his wounds, Cas had seemed to take advantage of the newfound ability to touch him; it gave Dean far more hope than it should have, though he could be imagining it all.</p><p>Occurrences similar to the hand on his back was nearly commonplace by the time he was healed up, and as much as Dean savoured it, it was equally as maddening as he’d still never said a word on any of it. Not that Dean had either, but he figured that Cas held more power in their dynamic and therefore didn't want to endanger himself by acting on an impulse that only continued to grow.</p><p>But Dean could swear there had been times when he would catch Cas staring at him as he worked or as he studied beside him. There were times when the smile that graced his face was too kind and soft to be that of a friend. When his hand left an invisible mark too hot to be from someone who had no feelings on the matter one way or the other. But then what did he know of friends?</p><p>There had been one day that stood out among the other that proved that perhaps Cas was reciprocating in all areas of Dean’s growing attraction. He’d been working, easy stuff really, but with his myriad of ailments it was difficult. He had been moving Remy’s tacking equipment after his first ride on her—Charles had wanted him to fix the fence posts and Remy was needed for that task—which had gone spectacularly and he was quite proud of himself for riding with only one good arm. But carrying the saddle with only one arm had proven to be more difficult than he’d originally thought.</p><p>Hauling the thing up to shoulder height with all the weight that it carried and with only one arm resulted in him losing his balance. As Dean tried to get a foot underneath him to catch himself, hoping to avoid ending up sprawled on the floor again, he tipped, the weight of the saddle causing him to fall faster than what was normal and it seemed to do more to carry him down to the ground than his own wobbling had.</p><p>Just before he hit the point of no return, an arm looped itself around his middle. His mind kindly supplied that the arm was <em>solid</em> as was the body it was attached to. Spinning around, now on two steady feet, he came face to face with Cas. He’d dropped his arm possibly a second or two later than necessary and the space felt cold in its absence. When Dean’s eyes focused in properly, he found himself a few inches away from Cas’ face. He was so close that he could feel the lightest touch of Cas’ breath on his cheek as it crossed the distance between them.</p><p>Both of them had been panting, the action drawing their chests closer together. His eyes flicked down against his will to Cas’ lips and he snapped them up just as quickly, only to see Cas mirroring him. Time seemed as though it was suspended, the two of them crowded into each other's space for far longer than what was deemed acceptable.</p><p>Dean’s heart had hammered in his chest, no longer from the fear that overtook him as he began to fall, now the racing was from the tension that had settled over them. The air thrummed with it around them. It would be so easy to lean in and close the distance, so easy and so dangerous.</p><p>Dean had found himself looking again at Cas’ mouth, the subtle pink of it framed with the contrasting shadow of his facial hair. The bow of his mouth and the curve of his full lips threatened to draw him in again. A heat had curled low in his abdomen as soon as he realized that Cas was the one who had caught him, and it was growing harder to ignore as they stood staring at one another. He’d noticed their faces had drawn closer almost imperceptibly, a flick of his eyes told him that Cas too was enraptured by his mouth and upon instinct his tongue darted out to wet his lips.</p><p>The moment snapped in two when Remy started huffing in her stable, Cas backed up quickly, looking resolutely at the floor as he picked up the saddle and hung it himself. The ease of the abrupt movement and the strength Cas held in his solid frame had Dean’s mind betraying him once again.</p><p>“Are you even able to avoid possible injury Dean?” Cas had asked looking at him with an odd mix of emotions that Dean hadn't had time to catch—though none were of anger or contempt—before he was bidding him a goodnight and returning to the house.</p><p>Dean never got the chance to ask why Cas had been in the barn in the first place.</p><p>The next morning he’d woken, cock straining against the fabric of his trousers. The wisps of a dream slipping from his mind in fragments. A flash of stark, near black hair, mused and messy. A glimpse at eyes so blue they put anything in comparison to shame. Words spoken lowly, the gravel of them shooting sparks down his back. Dean knew he shouldn’t, it was beyond wrong to pleasure himself using the thoughts of a man who was, at best, his friend. But he needed it, it’d been so long and the weeks in Cas’ presence had strung him so tight that he was astonished that he hadn’t snapped already.</p><p>Dean slid his pants down just past his waist, tucking the fabric below the swell of his ass and rucked his shirt up past his ribs, the memories of the night before fueled the fire that raged in his core. His body felt like it was buzzing with need. He gripped his cock, slowly stroking from base to tip as his breathing turned laboured. He imagined Cas’ hand on him instead of his own and tilted his head back with a groan as a spurt of precome released from his slit. Dean brought his hand up to his face and licked a stripe up his palm before stroking again. He imagined all the things Cas would say to him, growled into his ear while he laid there at the mercy of the man. Just that thought seemed to kick his arousal higher.</p><p>He knew that he’d need to finish quickly, so as he ramped up his speed and flicked his wrist in a twist against the ridge of his tip, Dean focused his mind on the way Cas had felt against him. How he had felt a stirring low in his stomach at having him so close, how incredible his name sounded as it fell from Cas’ lips in the raggedly whenever Dean managed to get Cas more riled up than normal, like he had done the night before.</p><p>His hips bucked violently as he imagined how Cas’ stubble would feel as it scratched along his skin, down his neck, and against his inner thigh.</p><p>He pictured what it might be like to lay his lands on Cas’ body, to feel the hard muscle ripple underneath his hands. How they would feel using each other for pleasure, what Cas would look like as he reached his peak, how he would sound saying his name, his voice wrecked, his touch claiming. His hips bucked violently several times in quick succession, he came with a cry and Cas’ name on his lips painting his chest with his release.</p><p>He’d cleaned himself up quickly using a corner of his blanket to rid himself of the mess and rose as normal to start the day, though a dark feeling settled in his chest.</p><p>His earlier assessment of Ibby had been right, even with the issues caused by his injuries he was finished soon after things had started to go back to normal. Charles had asked him about moving onto Ringer, which he agreed to gladly. They had started on Ringer only a day or two after that and Dean was determined to prove that he was competent with the beast which as time went on, he was able to do.</p><p>The farm was calm, though energetic, and Dean had found himself settling. Each time he felt such a way, it would jolt him and he’d remind himself that settling wasn’t safe. He warred with himself daily about the ordeal. On one hand, he thought that if anyone was after him, they would have shown up by now, but at the same time, the worry remained in his mind that he was unnecessarily endangering Cas and his family merely with his presence.</p><p>At night, when the quiet lulled him into a false sense of security, he could dream of a life that was like the one he saw in the Novak family. Peaceful, never having to look over his shoulder for danger, never having to fear his place in a community if the wrong person with a loud mouth rode in, never having to keep moving forward—even if only physically. Putting miles between one thing or another but never quite moving forward within yourself.</p><p>Cas’ family wouldn't let him leave, not until he was properly healed, and while he was sure that he’d be able to leave in the night as he had originally planned, they would likely send someone looking for him, perhaps at Cas’ insistence. That seemed to be simply the type of person Cas was, and he couldn't afford that when travelling on foot.</p><p>With Hannah’s return home, the Novak’s had cause to celebrate. Cas had told him that his older brothers and sister were due to come home in a few days. The arrival had spirits running even higher than they had when Hannah recovered.</p><p>Dean had been nervous, though he wouldn't admit it, at the prospect of the entire Novak family being on the farm. He kept as much to himself as he could and had yet to meet the majority of the Novack family that lived in the house. Cas’ younger brothers and sisters seemed to be occupied any time Dean went near or into the house, be it because they were not yet awake or focused on their lessons. Once the rest of the family showed up, however, there would be a higher chance of crossing paths.</p><p>Cas seems most excited about his brother Gabriel returning and talks about him and his return near constantly. Dean finds himself listening to Cas’ stories about his siblings as he worked beside him in the machine shed, setting up some of the equipment so that Charles could use it. Dean’s been making sure that each piece is up to par and Cas was working beside him doing the same.</p><p>It’s not overly exciting or difficult work which means that they talk a great deal.</p><p>“He got married ten months ago, and I haven’t seen him since a week after the wedding when they left for their new home,” Cas says wistfully. “He was always the sibling I was closest with and now with his return, even for the short time they’ll all be back it means so much just to be able to see him again.”</p><p>Dean easily relates to the sentiment. He hasn’t seen Sam in almost a year since the boy had moved to school. The prospect of seeing his brother again, even just in theory, excited him; though he knows it likely would never happen.</p><p>He walks past Cas on his way to one of the cabs, it’s the largest the family owned and has enough seating for eight, with tie-ups for six horses, in short, there’s a lot to ensure was working properly in case the family has cause to use it.</p><p>“What about your other brothers? And your sister?” he asks as Cas joins him.</p><p>“Don’t get me wrong, I love them and I can’t wait to see them again, but Gabriel was always there for me in a way they weren't. Beyond the loss of Gadreel, Gabriel seemed to know how to talk to me and show me he was there for me in situations I didn’t even know I needed support in.”</p><p>“He sounds like a good older brother,” Dean says as he climbs into the cab's bed.</p><p>“My older brothers were more typical,” Cas continues, “more the type to bully in the way siblings always do. Michael has six years on me. Lucifer and Raphael each have a few as well and Gabriel would always step in and make it so he was the one who’d get picked on even though he’s only two years older.” Taking in Dean’s expression, no doubt at the names of his siblings he adds, “My parents attempted to name us after angels, to varying degrees of success. My brothers were named for the archangels which you probably figured already.”</p><p>“What about your name?”</p><p>“It’s the silliest thing, but I was the only child born or brought home on a Thursday at the time of my birth, even Gadreel wasn't born on a Thursday, but a Friday instead, and so I’m named for the angel of Thursday. It is far more obscure than my siblings, which will always be a bit of an annoyance.”</p><p>“I don't know Cas, it's different, makes it more interesting. Although being named Lucifer must be something,” Dean comments.</p><p>“He did take the name to heart, while my other older siblings went off to marry and establish themselves in new cities, Lucifer fought against the way my parents wanted us to live, instead of marrying, he took off. We aren’t sure if he’s even coming back in a few days like the others, there have been rumours, told to us through my brothers, that he fathered a child. But no one knows if it’s true as we have no idea who the woman is.”</p><p>Dean’s shocked silent for a minute, wondering how a person who grew up as Lucifer must have turned into someone who revolted against the entire establishment. He wonders if Lucifer ended up like him. Hell, Dean wonders if he had even met the man unknowingly.</p><p>“I think my ma is so concerned about my unwillingness to find a wife because she thinks I'll end up like him,” Cas says. Then, in a voice barely louder than a whisper Dean could swear he hears Cas say, “If only she knew.”</p><p>His head is ducked into the cab but Dean swears that he feels Cas’ eyes on him, a shiver pulls itself from his chest at both the feeling and at the implications of what Cas has just said. But before he can turn his head to look, the feeling suddenly disappears and he catches only the side of Cas’ head when he does manage to sneak a glance.</p><p>“Is she pushing for you to get married before you can go to school? I would think that setting yourself up and being supported should come before a wedding, no?”</p><p>He’s strategically avoiding the word ‘wife’. He ignores his own mind's insistence on reading into Cas’ wording.</p><p>“All that matters to her is keeping up appearances, it’s been a constant thought of hers since Gadreel. Once Lucifer took off, she heightened her ‘participation’ in our lives. It’s been exhausting, truly, I know it’s because she cares but it’s the same thing day after day,” Cas pauses and looks at Dean. “Sorry, I can’t imagine this must be much fun for you.”</p><p>Dean’s not sure if Cas means listening to him complain or if he’s subtly referencing the fact that Dean never had a mother to pester him. Thinking that hearing about his own mother could bring up old wounds after a while.</p><p>“No worries Cas, you gotta talk about this stuff sometime, don't you?” Dean counters, hopefully hinting he’s been dying to know more about his life and his hatred of marriage.</p><p>“Yes, but it’s not fair to burden you with it, I’ve been doing so since your arrival here and I’d like to think that we’ve become true friends, it’s not right to constantly complain about this to a friend.”</p><p>Dean shakes his head fondly before catching himself and stifling off the action and the thoughts that accompany it. He shouldn't be getting fond over Cas, he shouldn't be imagining feelings and innuendos where there aren't any, simply because he wishes for something he can't have.</p><p>“I was under the assumption that friends did this sort of thing for each other, you help me learn and I help you lighten what weighs you down, now could you hand me the oil?” Dean asks, effectively shutting down the conversation and switching it as best he can.</p><p>“Have you thought about where you would want to go for school, if you are able to put off the wants of your mother for the time being? You could go and become a teacher like you want to,” he adds as Cas hands him the oil can. He tries to ignore that spark that still settles up his arm when Cas’ hands brush against his. From the corner of his eye, he catches Cas flex his hand before gripping it into a tight fist.</p><p>Interesting.</p><p>“Honestly, I haven't put much thought into it at all, I suppose I’d move to a larger city and find work there while I’m in school. Not sure where I would go though. I’m not even sure how I’d manage to get there.”</p><p>“Could you not take one of the horses here?” Dean asks.</p><p>“I suppose I could buy one of them, yes, my pa used to talk quite a lot about selling Ibby or Ringer even if we couldn't get them broken in. I’m not sure who would have bought them though.”</p><p>“Does he not need them?”</p><p>Cas shrugs, “Not exactly, we could use them, I’m sure of it, but we don’t <em>need</em> them, they’d be insurance for the other horses.”</p><p>“And they wouldn’t simply give you one? You’d have to buy them from your parents?”</p><p>“They may if I was to leave after a courtship began, but if I am only leaving for school I can’t imagine they’d give me one,” Cas responds as Dean climbs out of the cab bed again after finishing with the cleaning and oiling of the hinges on the doors and the handles.</p><p>He studies Cas a moment, trying to imagine him forced into something he so clearly doesn't want simply so he could learn or teach as he’s wanted to for so long. All he can see is a future that seems bleak, a woman who entered the relationship thinking that she would be getting her happy ending, children who may grow to think they were unwanted, Cas unhappy day in and day out because he submitted to what his parents wanted for him instead of seeking out his own path. Maybe Cas would be open to the idea of marriage after his schooling, after he has found his path and isn’t stuck beneath the pressure he clearly feels now.</p><p>A small part of Dean’s brain pipes up again reminding him that it was never marriage Cas said he had a problem with, it was finding a <em>wife</em>. And not for the first time, Dean finds himself desperately trying not to read into that at all. After all, it’s easy to misspeak, it doesn't mean that Cas is opposed to women.</p><p>“They’d really keep you here like that when they know how much you want to do more?”</p><p>“All part of god's plan as Ma says,” Cas says through a mirthless laugh. “I love her, but she doesn’t seem to care what I want. And my pa doesn’t care one way or the other what I do as long as it doesn’t cause him grief.”</p><p>Dean doesn't fully understand Cas’ situation. A part of him thinks that had he had an overbearing mother growing up, he would have listened to every word she said and would have taken it as gospel; but he knows that he can’t understand what it’s like to have that. Pain flares in his chest just as it always does when he thinks of a life he could have had if circumstances had been different but burying that sort of thing is second nature to him and his mind barely stays on it for a moment.</p><p>“You don't get a say at all?”</p><p>“I get a say for sure, but my opinion matters not if it's in favour of remaining unmarried. I get to decide what woman I marry, and in the general sense of when it is that I marry,” Cas responds as he walks around the cab, laying his fingers gently against the wood. He holds them there as he continues to walk, eventually letting them fall against his side as he walks up to the bed again.</p><p>Cas is jittery, Dean can see that, or perhaps jittery isn’t the correct word but he’s on edge. He hasn’t known Cas for long but he’s never seen the man <em>fiddle</em> quite so much. It’s oddly unsettling and Dean is sure that if they were in the company of a horse or two, the animals would be able to feel how the air surrounding Cas is so different from its normal calm.</p><p>“It doesn't matter either way, right now I’m not exactly able to leave the farm and head off to school, and even with the whole ‘Castiel you need to get married’—” Cas says in a terrible impression of his ma which includes stern hand motions to indicated her speaking, that has Dean laughing quietly and catching his breath as a frighteningly fond feeling spreads throughout his chest again, “—speech that I keep receiving, my help is needed here for another year or two at least."</p><p>Dean doesn't ask if Cas’ sisters could help around the house. He knows that some must be of the age where they could help with the work around the farm but that Cas’ family is the type to segregate the work done around the property.</p><p>Quiet surrounds them as they continue to work on the equipment. Dean takes care to search out rust spots on the metal or rotted spots on the wood of each piece he moves to. Still he makes quick work of it with Cas’ help. His mind wanders to how the farm might change with the arrival of Cas’ older siblings. He worries that the arrival will cause a shift between them; similar to how Cas acts around his father when Dean is with them.</p><p>The thought unsettles him far more than he would like, and Dean can’t push it from his mind. Stealing a glance at Cas, he’s frightened to find that simply looking at the other man calms some of that worry.</p><p>He is enamoured with the gentle way Cas’ hair moves in the breeze that barely makes its way into the sickly heat of the shed, as well as the small frown that adorns Cas’ mouth as he is thrown into memories that he’d rather forget about entirely.</p><p>Cas looks up and catches Dean watching him. He isn’t able to look away fast enough, too caught up in the man to notice that he was turning his head, and before he can start to try to cover what he had just been doing, Cas’ previous frown turns itself into a little smile. The feature reaches his eyes and it steadies something within Dean’s chest.</p><p>He’s still unsure as to how to read Cas’ advances, if they could even be called that, but regardless the knowledge that someone aside from his brother at least cares for him even in the smallest way means more to him than he would have thought.</p>
<hr/><p>He’s settling into the barn that night, when he realizes that he’s left his washing at the house. Cas hadn’t been the one to bring him supper that night—but Dean found that even without that time with Cas, he wasn’t worried about where they stood with each other, not like he had been in his first days—and because of that, no one had made it known to him that he had forgotten.</p><p>Shuffling to his feet in the pitch black of the barn, he makes his way to the door, happy to see that there are still a few lights on within the house.</p><p>It’s quiet around the farm. That kind of quiet that makes him feel out of place for making even the smallest of noises, as though the night is upset with him for disturbing the all-encompassing silence. Moonlight bathes the paths of packed earth in shades of blue and it only adds to the serenity.</p><p>He learns though, as he approaches the house, that he isn't the only one disturbing the peace of the night. Quiet voices, though only quiet due to his distance from them, drift from an open window on the main floor. He walks towards the mud room's exterior door, stopping when he sees that the interior separating door has been left open.</p><p>Dean has never entered the house when that door has been open, all his reasons for going into the house are accessed before he’d ever need to pass through into the house proper and he’s unsure as to whether or not it would be right to gather his clothes with the door as it is.</p><p>He pivots on his toes a few times, his internal debate raging before he decides that he can ask Cas to get his clothes for him at breakfast. Dean turns to leave but the faintly heard conversation catches his attention.</p><p>He moves closer to the window, taking care to keep out of sight, all he can see is Cas' side partially turned from him. It takes only a few words to learn who Cas is talking to as Dean hears Charles' voice rise above his son’s.</p><p>“—on him.”</p><p>“I don’t give a damn Castiel, you have a responsibility here! Your sister has been picking up the slack for far longer than she should have to, as have I mind you, simply because you want to make sure that an imbecile who went against orders and got himself hurt doesn't do it again? He’s dafter than even I had thought, and I never had much hope for him to begin with.”</p><p>Dean’s movement stops the second he hears Charles' voice, his tone leaves no room for assumption, whatever this conversation is about, it’s bad. He knows Charles is talking about him, just as he knew it was a poor idea to go near Ringer before he had had permission, but to hear Charles speak of him with such contempt hurts in a way he never thought it could. At least not from a man who barely knows him but still allows him on his property day after day.</p><p>“You spend so much time with someone like that Castiel and I assure you something will go wrong. Already has if you ask me, the boy walks around calling you by a name like ‘Cas’, as though he knows you.” Dean hears what he thinks to be a scoff before the scathing tone starts up again, the words it speaks sending a chill down his spine, “I have half a mind to send him on his way, he’s more trouble than he’s worth even with his work on the horses.”</p><p>“No, Father, you don’t need to do that. It’s just that—” he wishes he could see Cas’ face better, but there is no way he’s going to approach the window now. He doesn't know if Cas is going to spare him any possible harm. It seems that now is when Dean will get to learn if Cas has had any clues as to his true motivations—though hidden even to himself at times—behind his actions. He waits with bated breath, the few seconds between Cas’ sentences seem to stretch forever.</p><p>“He’s got no one, Pa. I figured it was the least I could do to be a friend to him. He’s been alone all his life, he almost seemed desperate for it.”</p><p>Cold washes over Dean’s body, chasing away all the warmth surrounding Cas that used to sit in his chest faster than a bullet. How could he be so stupid as to think that Cas was spending his time with him for any reason other than <em>pity</em>. He’s nothing to these people.</p><p>Dean quickly spins on his heels, not wanting to hear the end of the conversation, though it plays in his mind regardless. He imagines that by now Cas and his father are laughing over the drifter who never had a life that he could be proud of, laughing because Dean thought Cas could even for a moment enjoy his company.</p><p>Oh god, Dean reels back at the same moment he reaches the safety of the barn as he realizes how much he shared with Cas. How many of his well-kept secrets the man had him spilling in near seconds. He can just picture the family laughing at his expense as they sit around the table for a meal. At least Cas didn't have to deal with his mother’s nagging with all that to talk about.</p><p>How could he have been so foolish, so childish to imagine a happy ending for himself, even if that ending was simply having a friend for once in his miserable life?</p><p>His fists clench at his sides as he paces. All avenues of his brain scream at him to react and be violent, to tear into the people that made him feel this way, but he doesn’t let it take over. He feels sick, a dark mass squirms itself through his stomach, reminding him of every reason he ever had to never trust another soul, reasons stretching back to his childhood.</p><p>God, how much Cas must have pitied him when he was first given his name, this poor sad orphan without one, so desperate for one so he could begin to fit in and how excited he got when one was presented to him. He didn't even know if Dean actually meant valley, or if Cas was only saying it did to make him think that he could ever have something as important as a name of his own. One that actually means something to him.</p><p>His hand stalls as he reaches for his pack, he can’t leave now, he’d never make it far enough without a horse and with the rest of the family arriving in a few days, he’d have a price on his head larger than ever if he was to take off with their property.</p><p>He has no clue how the fuck he is going to get off this land. Perhaps after Cas’ older siblings leave again. He thinks that if he were to leave just after his supper was dropped off, he’d have maybe nine hours to put distance between him and the Novak’s farm. Hopefully, that would be enough time for him to disappear again if he was on foot.</p><p>What seemed like a possibility of even a minor fresh start has turned out to be as much of a prison as anything else in his life, and now all he can do is accept it until he can leave. Cas was never his friend, Cas never cared about him, every memory of kindness was a falsity. He’s the same as he was when he walked on to this farm: nothing.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You made it!! I know that was a monster of a chapter and a lot happened.</p><p>I can't even pick a talking point about this one because so much went down but uhh so much for Dean's one week stay huh?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Heaviness of Silence Where There Once was Noise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's quiet as he watches Hannah, that kind of peaceful quiet that makes him want to close his eyes and let it surround him like a blanket. He doesn't let his eyes fall though, content to watch as his sister's breath evens out as she succumbs to sleep. It's hard to stop the tears that make their home in his eyes. The simple act of his sister being able to sleep once again in her home without the worry of her not waking in the morning causes something to break and swell in his chest.</p><p>On her first day back, she had asked Castiel about the new person. She hadn’t been able to before because she was on her way to the clinic. As soon as he began to talk about Dean, he felt himself begin to blush and smile, but he quickly schooled his expression and told her enough about the stranger to placate her without giving too much away. He knew how much Dean guarded his past and Castiel wasn’t about to betray his trust—even if he was the only one to know he had broken it—by telling his sister. No matter how much she begged with a pleading gaze.</p><p>Knowing it's later than he should be up, Castiel makes his way upstairs. He changes quickly, eager to get as much sleep as he can, but he’s unable to help his underlying avidity to prove yet again that Hannah is in fact safe and at home. It may have been nearly two weeks since she had returned to the farm on the mend but there was a part of Castiel that needed the proof time and time again.</p><p>His mother has been praising God for bringing her back well, and while he had trouble believing her recovery sometimes as well, he’s not yet gone as far as to say it was caused by divine intervention, but rather a doctor with at least minimal competency in the matter of infections.</p><p>He pauses, his attention drawn to a bat weaving its way through the night air and catches sight of the barn. He can see the gentle swaths of light as they bleed through the still open door onto the packed-down dirt that surrounds the barn, like it does for each of the buildings on the property. He stops at the window, his mind briefly registers that this is the same window that he first spotted Dean out of, he smiles and tries to see if he can catch a glimpse of the man now. He knows it's highly likely that Dean’s already turned in for the night, lord knows he should have as well.</p><p>He finds himself wondering if Dean’s leg still bothers him at night. Some time ago Castiel had given him an extra pillow to set his leg on as he slept after one particularly bad day. It wasn't a day that was any more strenuous than normal but Dean had insisted that he could go back to doing the majority of the work, shifting the work to himself instead of relying on Castiel to pick up the sack as it were. It had been maybe a week since his fall but he refused to take it easy. The two of them had gone out to the fence line to repair them. Castiel had only gone because Dean was still favouring his uninjured leg and if he was going to need assistance Castiel had wanted to be there. Of course, there was also the fact that he was intensely drawn to the man and found that if he could rely on any excuse to be near him, he would take it without hesitation.</p><p>Accompanying him had turned out to be a grave mistake as Dean quickly found the work to be more laborious than he first had thought. Castiel sat stunned as Dean had spared him a glance before gripping the hem of his shirt and hesitantly lifting it over his head. He’d watched helplessly as Dean tossed his shirt onto Remy’s saddle and promptly returned to work. His breath had lodged itself thick in his throat as he had taken in the man in front of him, the power he held in his back, the way his muscles rolled around each other as he lifted his arm again and again over his head, the glint as the sun's reach shifted over the scars that adorned his skin, a sight he’d yet to ever see in such length. The scars didn't detract from him at all, if anything Castiel had thought that it spoke to Dean’s character and strength, building him up instead of tearing him down as the man seemed to think.</p><p>The torture had lasted far longer than Castiel though fair, and by the time Dean had finished, his skin glistened in the late day sun, shining golden as he worked some tension from his muscles, soft noises of satisfaction had escaped his lips on nearly every pass of his stretching. Castiel had been far more grateful for his loose-fitting shirt than he’d ever had cause to be before when they made their way back to the house. The long fabric hung a few inches below his pant hem, sparring them both from the mortifying and damaging evidence of his attraction to the man beside him.</p><p>That same night he had walked to the barn with Dean’s dinner and the flask tucked into the pocket of his pants. He had told his parents that he would check on Dean’s healing, granting him more time before suspicion could form in their minds. They sat closer than Castiel could remember them sitting any time before, even during their lessons. And though they spent much of the night talking, Castiel was pleased to find that when silence did settle, it wasn’t heavy, rather it was soft and calm like he’d never experienced with someone other than Gabriel.</p><p>If he’d thought on Dean’s first night that he was in trouble, it was cemented that night, as he talked to the man while checking his bandages, how foolish he was to have thought that based just on Dean's appearance alone. The fact of the matter was that knowing him in any capacity had decimated any hope of walking away from their time together, however short, unscathed. And yet he knows he would welcome whatever damage the universe deemed fit to deal him.</p><p>The bat swoops again in front of the window and Castiel finds himself present in the moment again. The light is out in the barn and he wonders how much time had passed as he stood at the window reminiscing. Cursing lowly at his lapse, he turns and makes his way to stop in at Hannah’s room once more.</p><p>The young girl is sleeping as she always had, like a log, unbothered by light or noise and she’ll stay as such until the sun has climbed its way well into the sky. It means more than Castiel can put into words to see her so much like her old self, while she was ill her sleep was fitful, and really, it was the first thing that had alerted them to there being a problem.</p><p>Castiel smiles at her from the doorway before shouldering himself off of it to walk into her room, he stops at her head and leans in to press a soft kiss against the cool skin of her forehead, and the simple fact that her skin is no longer feverish sends warmth to his chest.</p><p>He takes one more look at her as he turns to leave, smiling at the way her face scrunches as she sleeps.</p><p>“Sweet dreams Hannah,” Castiel whispers before heading again to the stairs.</p><p>He stops when he hears a quiet call of his name. His father's voice carries from the cracked door of his study and despite the heaviness in his bones he trudges up to the door and knocks before entering, a habit that had caused him great embarrassment the first night Dean had spent on the farm.</p><p>Pushing the door open he sees his pa sitting at his desk surrounded by papers and statements. He cringes as he realizes how much he has been shirking his duties to spend time with Dean under the guise of helping him and making sure he was doing the work properly. He wasn't foolish enough to believe any of that himself, not that he didn't try to—for quite some time after Dean’s arrival he spent most of his time convincing himself that it was all for the good of the farm—and as such had left his father to deal with the books alone.</p><p>He didn't even want to think about the days when Hannah was in town and Castiel was left alone with all the responsibilities he usually shared with his father, and yet still let them slide in favour of being at Dean’s side.</p><p>“Yes Pa?” he asks once his father looks up from his work.</p><p>He doesn't speak but motions for Castiel to enter the room, he opts not to sit and instead just barely leans a hip against the side of the desk before correcting himself and standing proper.</p><p>“I don’t blame you fully for this Castiel, but the responsibilities of the farm have been left aside for far too long and I am beginning to worry that your head is not in the right place as of now.”</p><p>“How do you mean Pa? I’ve been doing as much of my chores as I can.”</p><p>“Yes you have and I thank you for that, lord knows your mother would be up to her ears in work without you and your sister,” Charles says before reaching up and sliding his glasses down his nose. Castiel always thought they made him look far older than he was, but he suspected that may also have to do with the fact that he only ever wore them while working on the farm's records, and he always managed to look decrepit while he did that.</p><p>“Despite that you’ve been distracted, I knew that allowing that boy to stay on the farm would mean a bit more work at the start, and I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but it's been over a month that he’s been here helping and all he’s seem to have done is cause stalls in everything.” Castiel wants to interrupt, wants to make it known that Dean being here has been far more beneficial than not, but how can he do so without exposing himself. “And I'm not only talking about the farm or the animals. And while I must admit he’s made strides with Ibby, Castiel, the boy has been taking you away from your studies and your responsibilities and I can’t for the life of me figure out why you are allowing this. He’s some vagrant, he’s not worth a second more than it takes to tell him how to manage a hammer,” Charles finishes dismissively with an aggressive fling of his arm towards the barn Dean’s sleeping in.</p><p>He can feel the rage circling within him. Dean is far more than anything anyone has said against him, far more a man than Castiel’s father appears to be in this moment. And yet he’s sworn into silence for his own safety, for Dean’s safety as well, because he knows not how his father would react to such truths and does not know if he would assume that the unknown boy is the cause of his son’s seemingly sudden change.</p><p>“Well Pa he’s never worked on a farm like ours before, and rather than risk him getting injured again as he did with Ringer, I take what work I can out with me and keep an eye on him.”</p><p>“I don’t give a damn Castiel, you have a responsibility here!” he says as he roughly taps the top of his desk with his index finger to emphasize his point. “Your sister has been picking up the slack for far longer than she should have to, as have I mind you, simply because you want to make sure that an imbecile who went against orders and got himself hurt doesn't do it again? He’s dafter than even I had thought, and I never had much hope for him to begin with.” Castiel watches, silent, as his father sends his arm out again.</p><p>Castiel is weak and afraid, he knows this to be as true as anything he’s counted on before. He’s more ashamed at his own silence than he’s been of anything else in his whole life, and yet he can’t bring himself to speak. Call it self preservation, call it cowardice, it doesn't matter, it has him sinking into himself all the same. He knows how his father gets when he’s like this, the gesticulation is enough to tell him to be as placating as possible.</p><p>“You spend so much time with someone like that, Castiel, and I assure you something will go wrong. Already has if you ask me, the boy walks around calling you a name like ‘Cas’—” Charles says with such disgust, he’s not sure he even recognizes his father now. It breaks something within him to hear a name he’s grown to love so much said in such a way, “—as though he knows you,” his father scoffs, “I have half a mind to send him on his way, he’s more trouble than he’s worth even with his work on the horses.”</p><p>Castiel is silent for a beat too long after that sentence, “No, father you don’t need to do that. It’s just that—” Castiel pauses, “he’s got no one Pa. I figured it was the least I could do to be a friend to him.” He doesn't wait for his father's response before continuing on, “He’s been alone all his life, he almost seemed desperate for it.” There’s a laugh on his face, the corners of his mouth ticked up to persuade his father. Of all the sins he’s committed in his life this one seems the most egregious.</p><p>He feels sick, his skin crawls, he’s disgusted at his father, at himself, at the conversation that made him lie, that made him speak so poorly of Dean. His father seems to approve of his answer though, laughing at Dean’s misfortune, and it only makes him feel worse.</p><p>He never set out to be Dean’s friend because it seemed as though the man was in need of one. He was drawn to Dean from the very first day and he has been unable to do anything but allow himself to be drawn in. Truthfully, he hadn't even put up much of a fight against it. Had it been anyone else, he would have been ashamed of his actions, his inability to be rational and keep his distance, but he couldn't feel anything but warmth when he was around Dean.</p><p>That warmth turns sour now, Castiel knew that his father's vitriol would eventually cloud over his time with Dean. Just as he knows that his own words spoken against the man would darken each moment he was allowed to spend with him in the future.</p><p>He’s so lost in his own head that he carries through the rest of the conversation on reflex, he thinks his father mentions his brothers after moving from the topic of Dean, but he can't be sure.</p><p>His mind is still reeling when he makes his way to his room after his father dismisses him and he finds himself in his bed with no memory of the trip. Despite the tiredness in his bones and the late hour, Castiel finds himself unable to sleep.</p><p>He’d talked down about Dean, implied that his interest in the man was born from something other than pure <em>want</em>, he made his father think with just a few words that Dean was nothing more than a poor lonely man that Castiel had allowed to form a friendship with him to benefit Dean and Dean alone.</p><p>There was nothing further from the truth, he whittled his way through Dean’s walls because no matter what, he couldn't imagine Dean not being the focus of such intense regard in his mind. He isn't sure why it fills him with the guilt that it does, he knows it wasn't true, he knows that he was protecting himself and by extension Dean as well by lying to his father but it stills makes him feel like a fraud.</p><p>He turns on his side, the same position he used to hold when he woke up with a nightmare as a child and closes his eyes, begging for sleep to come spare him from what he knows to be a spiral that won’t end if he keeps awake.</p><p>He doesn't know when, but eventually sleep clouds his mind and pulls him into its grips, however fitful, it’s still preferred over being awake. By the time the roosters are crowing as the sun barely scratches its place along the horizon, his body feels only minorly better, still weighed down by lack of sleep and his own guilt.</p>
<hr/><p>Castiel is about to leave to help Dean with the day's work when his father stops him. They leave together and make their way over to the livestock barn where Dean is fixing another set of lashings. </p><p>It shouldn’t be news to Castiel, but each time his eyes fall upon the man, his breath stutters, not so overtly that anyone else could tell but it's clear to him. He doesn't know when Dean would have done it but he’s wearing the clothes Castiel knows he never retrieved yesterday. Then again, his father delivered him his food earlier so it’s not a great leap to make that he also would have taken the clothes with him.</p><p>“Morning boy,” his father calls as they get closer. Dean raises his head and Castiel pauses a moment.</p><p>Dean looks less than pleased to see them. It could be because he was expecting Castiel to come alone today, or even the fact that he looked into the sun when he raised his head. Either could be the cause of his displeasure.</p><p>“Mornin’ Sir,” Dean says back. He makes no such greeting to Castiel.</p><p>“How’s the work going?”</p><p>Castiel isn't sure of the purpose behind this trip but concedes to let his father do as he wishes so as to expedite the process and have him leave. The sour feeling hasn't left his stomach from the night before, but he isn't about to let on to either of them lest they begin to question him about it.</p><p>“Oh it’s going great Sir, in fact, I'm certain that I don't need any help today at all, it’s easy work and I’m sure that your son has plenty he needs to do before the arrival of his siblings,” Dean says with a tight smile.</p><p>Castiel pauses and frowns. He is disappointed at Dean’s words, but more than that, Dean’s behaviour seems different than what he has known. Castiel can’t figure out why, but for a brief moment, he feels panic rush cold through his blood and is certain that Dean knows about last night. Almost as immediately as it came on, it abides; there was no way for Dean to know about his conversation with his father, and it would perjure himself greatly to ask Dean if there was something wrong, or even specifically ask him if he’d overheard something. He figures that Dean must just be having an off day.</p><p>Truthfully, he can't recall a day since Dean’s accidents that he’s asked explicitly to work alone.</p><p>Perhaps he is preparing himself for the days after Castiel's siblings arrive, knowing that he’ll be taken away from their work together to visit with them.</p><p>He thinks himself foolish for projecting his fears and feelings onto Dean, though it doesn't lessen them in any way. A very quiet part of his mind realizes that Dean didn't say his name when referring to him, only referring to him as ‘your son’, but it's so far back that he doesn't even spare it a proper thought.</p><p>He lets his doubts go. What his father said last night was true, he had responsibilities he’d let slide and Anael had been picking them up, which certainly isn’t fair to her.</p><p>“Ah, just as I was hoping, Castiel has been quite busy these days and I’m glad he’ll have a day to catch up on what’s fallen to the side.”</p><p>Castiel watches as his father turns back to him, a smile on his face that he doesn't like. Granted his father could present him with anything he'd ever wanted and it still wouldn't be enough, not after last night.</p><p>“Are you sure? I cou—”</p><p>“I’m sure,” Dean says, cutting him off. “I’ll manage just fine by myself.”</p><p>Castiel hesitates again before conceding and saying, “Okay, if that changes I’m sure I’ll be able to help if you only ask.”</p><p>Dean nods once before he turns back the work he was doing. He doesn't want to leave but he knows there's no way he’ll be able to spend the day with Dean if his father knows he's not needed.</p><p>He looks back as he walks to the house, hoping to catch Dean’s eye, but each time he’s facing away and each time it’s just as disappointing.</p><p>His day moves along at a snail's pace. All he wants is for it to be after supper so he can spend time with Dean. From morning to lunch Castiel does little other than help his father with the books, it’s excruciatingly dull, Castiel swears upon anything that it’s worse than it ever was before, knowing that he could be outside helping Dean, teaching Dean, or even just being away from his father.</p><p>He wonders if his father will keep him at his side, helping him in the days before his siblings come home. He can only imagine Gabriel’s face if and when he learns that Castiel allowed their father to dictate how he spent his time without even a few words of fight from him. The two of them had long ago grumbled to one another about the way their father was at times. Hardly ever letting on to their father or their siblings of the issue they took with their orders, it fell to the other to lend an ear to the nonsense.</p><p>It bonded them together and Castiel can't help but be grateful for his older brother for the millionth time.</p><p>A cursory glance at the calendar his father keeps shows that Gabriel is set to arrive in just two short days. They still haven't heard if Gabriel’s wife will be joining him on the trip as she’s getting closer to the end of her first pregnancy and neither knows for sure what effects travelling could have on her. He hopes she’ll join him though; Kali always brings such light with her.</p><p>And though it's selfish, the more spouses (and children) who arrive with his siblings, the more people his mother has to fuss over, the less likely it is that his unmarried, unbetrothed status will be brought up, especially if any of them are adding to their families as Gabriel is.</p><p>He thinks that maybe it's a bit more than just selfish. It's more akin to self-preservation; his older brothers—save for Gabriel—love to join in on the questioning and pestering about his love life and will sometimes weave a little too close to the truth for his comfort, though they don't know it. Even Hester on occasion adds her own comments on the matter, and after years of it, Castiel has grown quite tired of explaining himself again and again.</p><p>He spends his afternoon in the family’s schoolroom and keeps the kids entertained and educated while his mother and sister do the remainder of the washing. Balthazar has quickly taken to maths and Castiel is beside himself as he watches his brother work through the complicated problems.</p><p>He hopes that his younger siblings will fight for what they want as much as he tries to, especially his sisters. His mother would have them no sooner married off than they reach adulthood if she had her way, all to satisfy god's plan for them. Anael is already getting close, at just barely seventeen he can tell that his mother will set her sights on her soon enough.</p><p>Castiel doesn’t think his younger sister has any qualms about marriage, but it irks him to think that she may not get to live all the life she may want because their mother, and by extension their father, is so insistent on having them ‘comply with the doctrine set out for us’ because it's the ‘only way to live a bountiful life’.</p><p>Watching his siblings run around playing and reading, huddled around one of the novels they have, a family favourite if Castiel remembers anything from his own childhood, seeing their smiles and the proud way they show him that they’ve completed their work, Castiel wishes he never had to leave the house at all.</p><p>It’s heartbreaking to think that regardless of whether his mother gets her way or not he will be leaving at some point, and he will miss out on them growing and learning and becoming their own people. He worries how Anna may grow up, hearing their mother speak so often of a woman's role, or how his father's stoicism when faced with anything but peevishness or anger, may lead to Alfie not knowing how to express himself properly.</p><p>A flash of annoyance lances its way through his heart, it shouldn't be his job to make sure his brothers and sisters are raised into well-rounded individuals. He shouldn't have to worry about whether or not their potential will be lost in the process of them growing up in this house.</p><p>There's a flame inside him that was lit far too long ago but has never ceased its burning. He wouldn’t doubt that Dean feels the same, that he has this same flame in him. It was born the moment his brother got sick, grew after he died, grew again when his parents took their mourning out on him, the pain of being forced into growing up too fast, of shouldering burdens no child should have to.</p><p>Castiel had been forced to deal with his own trauma by himself, thankfully Gabriel saw it for what it was and stepped in to help him offload even a small portion of it, despite it meaning that Gabriel would end up dealing with far more than he should have to at his age as well.</p><p>Castiel had been too young to realize it at the time, he only saw his brother coming into his room at night to sleep as a sign of brotherly love and not as an attempt to make it seem as though the room wasn't a body short. He saw his brother spending time with him, so much more than normal, not as a way to distract him so that he couldn't miss how his days were absent of his brother's laughter or his mother's presence, but because Gabriel simply wanted to.</p><p>He’s thrown from his thoughts when a small, but oddly forceful, arm—make that two arms—land around his neck.</p><p>Pulling back at just the right moment to avoid getting smacked in the face by a fast moving forehead, he smiles down at the ruffled hair of his younger sister.</p><p>“Duma sweetie, we’ve talked about this, I would like to keep all my teeth,” he pauses as he lifts her into his lap properly and figures he should yet again clarify, “in my mouth, yeah?”</p><p>“Mmmhmm,” she agrees excitedly after a closed mouth smile spreads across her face.</p><p>“Now what was so important that you risked bonking your head,” he says as he stands, figuring that whatever caused the running and the jumping is going to require something from him, and drops her to the floor, making sure that her legs are first under her before releasing her. He’d made that mistake once and once was all it took to not make it again—though it had been a tad bit funny (once he was sure of her wellbeing) to watch as Inias laid crumpled on the floor.</p><p>“Hannah said that she wanted to see you and I knew you were here so I got you for her.”</p><p>“Well I don’t see how you’ve gotten me when I’m still right here,” he teases with a smile.</p><p>Duma’s eyes light up and she surges forward to grab his wrist in both her hands, “C’mon, Castiel!”</p><p>He stumbles after her only partially pretending to flail about down the hall. He smacks his elbow into a door frame but her giggles are worth it. As they near Hannah's room Duma dips behind him and starts to push against his back to get him to her door. Castiel can’t help but laugh when her shoes slip on the floor and despite her walking motion, she, and by extension, he, moves nowhere.</p><p>Knowing her patience when it comes to this sort of thing isn't never ending Castiel lifts his weight off the back of his heels and stumbles with his sister into Hannah’s room.</p><p>“I was forcefully summoned here by a small child upon your bidding m’lady,” he says, getting a giggle from both his sisters. It amazes him how easily they laugh at everything, their childhood joy so pure and whole. Duma’s laughter echoes gently as she leaves the door, content that her job is done.</p><p>“I just wanted to make sure that when Michael and all of them get back, that you won’t forget to spend time with me,” Hannah says looking down at her twisting fingers.</p><p>“Never Hannah, in fact I think you’ll be spending so much time with them that you won’t even have time to see me at all, but I’ll still show up just so you can kick me out.” He sits down on the side of her bed. “I'm betting that Gabriel is going to try to convince you to let him and Kali sleep in here because you’ve always been his favourite.”</p><p>“Nuhuhh,” she says hitting his arm, “that’s you!”</p><p>“No, I swear! He told me never to tell you that but I just had to let you know.” Castiel leans in conspiratorially, “Don’t let him know that I told you though, the last time I spilled one of his secrets he stole all my favourite books.”</p><p>“He would do that, wouldn’t he?”</p><p>“That and more, so do me a favour, ya?”</p><p>“Okay but you still have to spend time with me, Ma still doesn’t want me getting up and I’m slowly going batty,” she huffs and slumps back against her piled-up pillows.</p><p>He’s always wished that his family's past didn't cause distress for his younger siblings and yet, Hannah would have been up and moving about the second they got a whiff that she was feeling better but their ma wouldn’t chance it, not after having the wound go septic under her eye, not after Gadreel.</p><p>“Wouldn’t for a moment wish not to.” He means the sentiment with his whole heart. Hannah's face lights up a bit more than it had been and it serves only to break his heart a little more. What will happen the day he does leave? When he goes off to school or concedes to his mother's wants and marries.</p><p>What happens to his siblings who look at him and Anael with such awe? He isn’t sure if it’s because they are old enough to help, or if it’s because they aren't their parents so their siblings trust them more, or if it simply has something to do with shared experiences and shared time together.</p><p>No one younger than Castiel remembers Gadreel, Anael was nearing three when he died and Hannah still wouldn’t come along for another two years. But they all grew up in the wake of the loss, with the same parents who changed after his death, though none of them had the frame of reference to recognize the difference.</p><p>“Now, I’m beyond bored sitting here and I want to read, can you grab a book for me please,” she says drawing out the ‘e’ in the middle of the word. “Maybe steal whatever Inias has been reading. We always like the same books,” She smiles as Castiel gets up to do her bidding, her hand reaching out and tapping against him in an effort to make sure he heard her.</p><p>“Oh yes because that always goes over well,” Castiel responds sarcastically.</p><p>Hannah only smiles wider and he snorts a small laugh as he makes his way back to the schoolroom.</p><p>The rest of the afternoon moves on trend with the day, each time he spares a glance to a clock he sighs. The hours tick by slowly until finally, it’s time for supper.</p><p>By some saving grace, his mother is far too involved with his siblings' return to bring up any woman she’s heard is single. It excites him for the days ahead, knowing with more certainty that his siblings would draw the attention away from him.</p><p>As they all finish, Castiel stands to help clean up both the table and the mess Alfie had made, counting down the minutes until he gets to go to the barn. Perhaps he’ll sneak the flask with him, tell his parents he wants to make sure Dean hasn't aggravated any injury while working alone.</p><p>As he’s setting off to change, his father's voice stops him.</p><p>“Castiel, I’m going to be taking the boy his supper tonight. I want to talk to him about the changes that will come with the arrival of your older siblings. You’re free to do as you wish tonight seeing as you no longer have to waste your time out there.”</p><p>Castiel wishes he could say how it's never a waste to spend time with Dean, but his father apparently took their conversation last night as a sign that being around Dean was a chore and is trying to alleviate that from his plate.</p><p>God, what has he gotten himself into, his one reprieve from his family and he managed to get his father to keep him from it, likely at every turn.</p><p>Resigned, he retires to his room, stopping at the window in his room as he had the previous night to peek at the barn, the door is shut which he finds odd considering. Dean almost always has the door open.</p><p>He tries to focus his energy into reading, content enough to study in his free time, but his mind keeps wandering. He reasons it’s drawn from the less strenuous day he’s had. His mind and body are not as tired as he’s used to and the extra energy is making him antsy and unable to focus.</p><p>He gives up and turns in early after saying goodnight to his siblings, both sleeping and awake. As he lays in bed, he’s lucky enough to have his mind quiet for long enough to let him fall asleep, a small thought surfacing as he slips off that he’ll get to spend time with Dean tomorrow and his brother the day after.</p>
<hr/><p>The next day is worse.</p><p>He wakes far too late, and to the sound of children shrieking no less. He loves his sibling’s laughs at all times except first thing in the morning.</p><p>He rushes through his breakfast, getting a well deserved look of mild disappointment from his ma for putting on such a display in front of his extremely impressionable younger siblings.</p><p>When he does make it outside, Dean is setting Remy up with the equipment he’ll need to fix the remainder of the fence line as well as tackle the far gate which had long been in need of some repairs.</p><p>“Hello, Dean,” he says as he approaches. “Sorry about yesterday, I hope you didn’t find the work too hard; I know you said you didn’t need the help but…” He trails off not sure exactly where he was planning to go with that sentence.</p><p>“Don’t worry about it, I managed it just fine myself,” Dean says, not looking at him as he finishes securing everything to the tie-ups on Remy’s saddle.</p><p>“Did my father talk to you about the days when my brothers and sister will be here?”</p><p>Dean simply nods, sliding on his riding gloves.</p><p>“I hope that I’ll still be able to get away during the days while they are here, but it may not work out as such,” he pauses as an unsettling thought crosses his mind. “Come to think of it, I might not get much of a chance to stay with you for your supper during their stay.”</p><p>“That’s fine, family is the most important thing,” Dean says quickly, tensely. Castiel can see the stance of his shoulders is just as tight as it was the day before and realizes that Dean has not smiled properly at him at all yet. Though he rarely smiled much at all, Castiel had been the recipient of a fair number of them since they became tentative friends and far more when they became more confident in their newly made friendship.</p><p>“Either way if you’re ready, I’d be happy to help with the fences.” He phrases it a bit like a question, his own demeanour shifting off-center in the wake of Dean’s odd behaviour.</p><p>“No need,” he says tersely, as he swings himself up onto the saddle, gloved hands gripping the choke and then the reins as he settles into the dip of the leather. “I’ll be fine on my own, Sir.” Dean barely waits a second before he’s kicking Remy’s flank and riding off to the fence line leaving Castiel stunned where he stands.</p><p><em>Sir</em>? Had Dean really just called him Sir? What the hell caused that.</p><p>Ice washes over Cas’ body as a thought swims to the front of his mind. One that, in all his wondering yesterday, never sprouted. Is it possible that Dean knew of his affections and as such was trying to make it as clear as possible that they were not returned?</p><p>But how could that be? Every interaction seemed clouded with a fog of unsure understanding that day by day was becoming clearer. He thought Dean was reciprocating at least in part, but now he worries he may have imagined it.</p><p>He’s getting mighty close to projecting again and reels himself back before he heads over that edge. Dean knows that his siblings are arriving on the farm in a couple days, Dean knows that calling someone you essentially worked for ‘Sir’ is the proper thing to do. Castiel hasn’t heard Dean use that term to address him since the first night, perhaps Dean is attempting to avoid calling Castiel by his nickname in front of his family by starting now with the correct title. It’s not a bad idea, Castiel certainly doesn’t want to answer the questions that would come from hearing Dean call him by ‘Cas’. Doesn’t feel like dealing with the fallout if his brothers, or even his sister heard it, knowing it wouldn’t be ignored like it has been by his parents.</p><p>Neither his ma nor pa had asked why Dean calls him ‘Cas’ until two nights ago when his father brought it up, he knew they would have issues with it but hadn’t ever wanted to broach the topic himself. By his father's words, he could assume that he wasn’t fond of Dean using such a casual term for him, but his father does know at least a little about his dislike of being referred to as sir and at first, must have accepted it by believing it was coming from a place of following an order Castiel set out.</p><p>He ignores the niggling in the back of his brain and the uneasiness settling in his stomach about the situation, deciding that he would have to be content with the explanation that Dean was simply getting into the habit before the arrival of his family. Castiel finds himself worrying throughout the day, regardless.</p>
<hr/><p>He should have known that Gabriel's arrival would cause such a commotion. He’d barely had time to fret over how he wasn’t able to take Dean his supper the previous night because Hannah was worried about her eldest siblings coming home—she barely knows Gabriel let alone Michael or Hester because of the differences in their ages; plus, after being sick and becoming the talk of the town, she was a bit nervous for the possible attention. That had meant that the last bit of time Castiel would have had with Dean prior to the arrival of his family was lost.</p><p>He rushes through making himself presentable, his hair is, as always, the one part of him that’s never been counted as proprietous, and is making his way down the stairs, at such a speed that would have resulted in a reprimanding by his mother had she not been otherwise engaged, when Gabriel crosses the threshold.</p><p>“Well I’ll be damned!” Gabriel shouts gleefully when he sees Castiel. “Would have thought you’d be off doing something important, especially considering the hour,” he says, a small jab at his habit of sleeping late as a child.</p><p>“Gabriel, language,” his mother scolds while taking his bag from him.</p><p>“Sorry Ma.” His brother at least has the decency to look a bit chastised as he pulls their ma into a hug.</p><p>Gabriel pulls back with a quick kiss to her cheek before he turns and envelops Castiel into a tight hug. “It’s good to see you, Castiel.” Castiel can’t help but agree with the sentiment. Since his birth they hadn’t gone longer than a few days without seeing each other, so the past ten months have been especially difficult.</p><p>“It's been too long Gabriel,” he says, still bound in his brother's arms.</p><p>“I’ll make sure to write more Cassie, I promise. It doesn't make up for it fully, but then again nothing can compare to having the real me in your presence,” Gabriel says with an insufferable smile as he pulls back. Castiel just can’t help it and shoves his brother for being an idiot.</p><p>“Just make sure I’m not the only one getting letters, the rest of them all miss you too.”</p><p>“Of course they do, I’m their favourite,” Gabriel jokes, but Castiel can see the understanding in his eyes. Gabriel turns again to grab their bags and Castiel catches sight of Kali.</p><p>“Oh my, where is my common sense, I’m spending all this time with my ridiculous brother when his better half is standing right here!” he teases as he leans in to wrap Kali in a hug, it’s odd as he’s not sure he’s ever hugged a pregnant woman aside from his mother—and that was five years ago—but it’s still nice.</p><p>“As long as you understand that, you’re in the clear Castiel,” Kali says with a mocking smile at Gabriel, though there’s no heat behind it.</p><p>“Always, I’m glad you could make it,” Castiel says as they pull apart and Gabriel makes a scoff of playful indignancy.</p><p>He still marvels at the ease the two of them have together and how they interact with each other. The light jabs and underhanded compliments would be unheard of with so many other couples, but the two of them understand each other and Castiel couldn't have asked for a better woman to keep at his brother’s side for the rest of his life.</p><p>It’s not something he thinks he <em>wouldn’t</em> be able to have with a woman, he’s made friends before, has had a similar comradery with women, but there's a love that passes between Gabriel and Kali that he knows wouldn’t be part of his life if he had a wife.</p><p>It doesn't take long for the kitchen to fill with children. Anael is first with Alfie in tow and she nearly cries when she goes about saying hello to Gabriel and Kali. The younger children who have some more solid memories of Gabriel swarm him and Kali, the look on his brothers face when the children circle him is priceless and completely worth whatever nonsense Gabriel is bound to get up to while he’s home.</p><p>Alfie, it seems, isn't as interested in saying hello because he hides behind Castiel's legs. It makes perfect sense; Alfie wasn’t yet five when Gabriel left for good after the wedding and had been only three when he and Kali had met so he has very few memories of his older brother and even fewer of Kali.</p><p>“Hey buddy,” Castiel says crouching down. “It's okay I know he’s dreadful to look at but he’s a good guy,” he smiles in return to the small one that Alfie cracks at the joke. A “watch it there” sounds from behind him and he turns to smile and wink at Kali from where she’s stood back, Anael beside her, a similar jovial smile on her face as Castiel’s. “Do you want me to go with you when you say hi?”</p><p>A slight nod from his youngest brother has him standing and hauling him into his arms.</p><p>“Hey it's okay to be nervous,” he reassures when Alfie sticks his head into the crook of his shoulder, “I know he’s very loud and,” he looks around conspiratorially before leaning in close and whispering, “quite annoying, but he’s really just a softie,” he finishes returning to a normal speaking volume.</p><p>“Hey little guy,” Gabriel says when Alfie unearths his face. “I know you probably don’t remember me much but I’m one of you big brothers, like Cassie but better because I’m bigger of a brother.”</p><p>“You are several inches shorter than I am Gabriel, in fact, I’m almost sure that you are several inches shorter than Alfie. Wouldn't you agree buddy, aren't you bigger than this shortie?”</p><p>Alfie giggles and nods while Gabriel plays along and looks affronted.</p><p>It’s easy after that, Alfie warms up to Gabriel and Kali quickly and for the first time, Castiel finds himself not thinking about Dean.</p><p>He and Anael sit with Gabriel, Kali, and their parents as they talk, finally old enough to be included in the adult conversations while Balthazar and Inias, aided by Hannah—who had been given permission to traverse into the schoolroom—watch over the youngest kids.</p><p>His pa excuses himself a moment without explanation and his ma jumps right into asking about Kali’s pregnancy, forgetting that Castiel is sitting right there. It’s not that he is opposed to hearing whatever Kali chooses to share, it's that, normally men wouldn’t be in the room to hear talk of a pregnancy that they had no part in, in fact even the father may be absent for such discussions.</p><p>He isn’t going to call attention to himself though, content to listen and learn what he can from it. If anyone in the room was to voice their wish for him to be absent, especially Kali, he would leave without issue but no one raises a point of it.</p><p>He’s never really talked about it to anyone except for Dean and Gabriel, but he truly loves to learn, the process of gaining new information, of making connections and furthering his understanding of simple and complex concepts excites him. To learn is to grow, and by growing he is ensuring that future generations of children, his or others, have a more solid foundation upon which to start their own learning.</p><p>When his father fails to come back in a reasonable time, Castiel comes to the conclusion that he must have gone out to speak to or check on Dean and his work. It's a recurrent thought in his head, one that even he is getting tired of after repeating it so many times to no avail, but he wishes he could be out there with Dean regardless of what he’s doing.</p><p>He’s left with that thought for much of the rest of the day, he does manage to excuse himself to his room for a brief moment and if he sneaks a few slips from his flask while up there no one needs to know. His room has been overtaken by Gabriel and Kali for the duration of their visit, and as such he’ll be spending his sleeping hours in Balthazar and Uriel’s room.</p><p>They’ve been forced to triple up while the older kids are home to give the incoming families privacy. It’s a bit of a tight fit squeezing everyone in together, but none of the younger kids really mind. To them it’s special, out of the ordinary.</p><p>He spends a few more minutes in his room, knowing that for the next few days he won’t have this quiet space to retreat to after a long day. He savours it while he can; it’s enough to know that it will be here as a safe haven once the chaos of the week is done.</p><p>Dinner is filled with stories from Gabriel and Kali, the younger kids interject with their own stories, even though they more often than not had nothing to do with what they’d been talking about. There’s a fond look in Gabriel’s eyes that tells Castiel that he’s happy to sit back and let his younger siblings talk knowing that he doesn’t get to see it much anymore.</p><p>Castiel had seen the way Gabriel had watched the kids earlier, had seen how saddened he was for missing their milestones and birthdays. It was the curse of the older child again, dealing with insufferable young ones and the nostalgia and sadness that comes with missing out on that same insufferableness as they grow up. Soon enough Castiel will be the one missing milestones, so he has been soaking everything up while he can.</p><p>After supper he joins Gabriel and Kali in Hannah's room, they talk until she starts to fall asleep and his heart is so full he thinks it might overwhelm him.</p><p>He settles in on the floor of his brother’s shared room and no sooner than he has set his head down sleep starts pulling at the recesses of his mind. He figured that such a busy and minorly confusing day would cause him to drift to sleep immediately, however, his brain still spares a fleeting thought of Dean and how he’d not seen the man at all today, something that had only happened once since they met.</p>
<hr/><p>The next day turns his already busy home into a madhouse, there hadn’t ever been a time in which this many people descended upon its four walls at once, and never had all of the children been home at the same time, as the eldest three had moved out before Alfie was born.</p><p>The rest of his siblings arrive and file through the door, all except for Lucifer, but no one’s truly that shocked about that. He’d had little contact with the family and Castiel isn’t sure if his brother even knew that the family was gathering.</p><p>Castiel had stolen a moment to see Dean before the rest of his siblings arrived. Without asking, he took Dean his breakfast, catching the man early, and if Castiel was right, still not fully awake.</p><p>Dean’s answering smile, though fleeting, warmed him from the inside, replacing some of the chill that still lingered from his conversation with his pa.</p><p>It’s just the two of them in the barn, none of his siblings were awake, his ma and pa were occupied and his father had no cause to leave the house for several hours, but Dean was still being short with him and he couldn't figure out why. There was still no explanation that came to Castiel’s mind for his change in demeanour. Dean just seemed to have decided that Castiel wasn’t worth the friendship he had offered, and if that stings more than he thought it would, he doesn’t let on.</p><p>He knew it was foolish and indicative of how screwed he was that even seeing Dean and speaking to him briefly, though the result of it seemed to tear at his heart, was enough to keep him going as the day progressed.</p><p>Alfie spends most of the day at his or Anael’s waist, though he would seek out their parents if they weren’t so busy with everything. His father is locked away in his study for reasons no one knows and his mother’s busy with welcoming and getting his family settled.</p><p>Michael and Raphael hug him longer than he would have thought they would, but it's nice. Hester takes the time to talk with him almost one on one—Alfie spends their conversation clinging to his waist since Anael had made an exit at some point. It’s nice to know that his siblings do miss him even though they’ve grown up and started their own lives, mostly without him in them.</p><p>It’s overwhelming, having everyone together again. But as much as it picks at his nerves—they may be family but that doesn’t mean Castiel has unlimited patience with them—he can’t help but let his heart fill up with every smile he sees on one of his sibling’s faces. Or the rapt attention the kids, nieces and nephews included, give his older brother as he explains just what it’s like in the big city.</p><p>A part of him wishes he could share this with Dean, he deserves to experience the love and annoyance that comes with being surrounded by family. He knows that having his family around him is making him quite sentimental, but Dean does deserve this type of love, this type of life, especially after everything he’s been through. Castiel would put money on Dean not having told him even half of the hell he’s gone through in his life, being happy is what he should be able to have.</p><p>His musing carries him to bed and continues in the morning light. Uriel is already awake, but only barely, he rolls over and it takes only a few moments for Uriel’s faint breathing to even out again.</p><p>He manages to get out to see Dean again. The man is looking a bit worse for wear in the early morning light.</p><p>“Dean, are you okay? Were we too loud last night? I’m sorry if we were. I’ll make sure that the noise is kept down so that you can get your rest.”</p><p>Dean looks a bit like he wants to come back with something that would surely be a lashing out at Castiel, but he bites it back. The anger fades into shrouded sadness and Castiel thinks that it may not have been the noise that has Dean upset this morning. At least not only the noise. It’s possible that hearing his family is causing Dean to miss his own.</p><p>“It wasn't the noise; I just didn’t sleep the best is all,” Dean replies tensely.</p><p>“I can ask my pa if I can help you today, that way you aren't overexerting yourself at all, especially with your lack of sleep” Castiel offers hopefully.</p><p>“That isn't necessary, I’m fine to work by myself.”</p><p>Castiel is getting quite tired of this avoidance, if Dean wants to stop being his friend that's fine, but he could at least pluck up enough courage to actually say so to Castiel's face.</p><p>During the first days he spent with Dean he used the word fine to describe himself so often, but when Castiel called him out on it he conceded. For some reason, he isn’t convinced that if he were to go about the same route that he would get the same response.</p><p>Giving in, he allows Dean to go off without a fight, wishing him a good day; to which he again responds with the use of the honorific ‘Sir’. Castiel bristles, pulling up short, he doesn’t turn though having already started walking back to the house, before he starts on again while desperately trying to parse if he’s imagining the eyes he feels on his back. Not willing to give Dean the satisfaction of getting to him, he makes sure to give no indication that he can feel the eyes, if Dean is even looking at him. He knows that it could be all in his head, that he wants Dean to be watching him as he leaves, but he can't get into that now, not with the bustle of everyone slowly waking in the house.</p><p>Twelve extra people in the house is a lot more in practice than in theory. Especially considering they all had to quickly relearn how to live amongst each other while going about their business.</p><p>Whenever his mind has a moment to stray, he finds his fists starting to clench. Not even one week, that’s all it’s been, but he’s beyond fed up with Dean’s actions, especially without explanation. How hard would it be to say ‘Cas I don’t want to get you in trouble with your family’ or ‘I appreciate the friendship but would like us to recede back to acquaintances, instead’ or <em>dammit</em> even ‘Cas I’ve taken notice of your interest in me and while I’m flattered, please know that if the advances continue they will likely make me uncomfortable’. Dean could take two minutes to set things straight but instead, he refuses to give Castiel any clue as to why he’s distancing himself, and he doesn't know how much more of it he can take.</p><p>At dinner that night they learn why it is that all but one of them are back home. His father clinks his glass to halt the ruckus of conversations amongst the twenty-two of them. Castiel looks at the children settled into a table for themselves, sending an apologetic glance to Anael for the fourth time since they all sat down.</p><p>He would have gladly sat with his youngest siblings and his nieces and nephews, having already done so in the rotation of adults taking their turn to take care of the staggering number of young children, but his father apparently needed his sons at the table for this supper.</p><p>“I know I asked you all to come home quite some time ago but gave no reason as to why I felt it necessary to have my grown children home again.” Castiel can’t tell if that's a barb at him. “As you all should be aware, our home and the land it sits upon used to belong to my father and his father before him and so on. I was given the land when he deemed himself too old to work it feasibly. While I am not yet at that age, I felt it necessary to announce that Michael will be inheriting the farm at which time I choose. I have spoken to him about it in length, he understands that the farm will not become his until Anna and Samandriel have had the same chance as all of you to grow up here.”</p><p>Internally Castiel rolls his eyes, forever amused that his pa won’t use ‘Alfie’ when referencing his youngest child.</p><p>“I understand that this isn’t as big an announcement as some of you may have been expecting, but nonetheless I didn’t think it right to not share the updates of your home,” his pa finishes. Some of his siblings raise questions but none raise issue with it.</p><p>None of them had thought that the future of the farm would land in anyone else's hands. Michael was the most logical choice, he’s the eldest, his schooling brought him far more knowledge of business and management than any of his other siblings, and, though Raphael would fight it to his last breath, Michael was the most mature and reasonable of his older siblings.</p><p>He knows that Michael will do a good job with the farm, and by the look on his brother's face, he’s thrilled to be the one to inherit the land.</p><p>As the first full day with his siblings comes to a close, Castiel walks himself up to his temporary boarding. He pauses at the door before turning and making his way to his actual room. Both Gabriel and Kali are out of the room, last he had heard they were going to walk around the house a bit to settle the baby. He sneaks his flask out of his chest of drawers, but feels a stone drop into his stomach when the cool metal hits his palm. The flask had been a stepping stone for him and Dean, a way to skirt the line of friends into what could only be thought of as more. But now it served only to upset him. He stashes it, now sullen, and leaves his room.</p><p>He knows he's being reiterative with his constant internal investigation regarding Dean, but for reasons he doesn't know, he can’t move past it. He’s not going to kid himself any longer, whatever it is that happened, it doesn't matter much to him anymore, all that matters is how terrible he feels as the days go by. Each morning he’s weighed down and wound up more by the continued treatment, and soon he thinks he might snap.</p><p>And yet he has no plans to find out the truth, at least he doesn't have any now, maybe he’ll be made to work with Dean and he’ll then have the chance to ask him about it when Dean can’t just leave to avoid the conversation.</p><p>By daybreak, the house has found a calm with all the additions. It's a tentative calm, ready to splinter with any minor thing, but a calm nonetheless. Again, he’s kept in the house, not allowed to work with Dean.</p><p>If he looks, he can see Dean mulling about doing his work. He’s been able to see Dean through the windows here and there the entire time Dean’s been with them but hadn’t needed to catch glimpses of him because he was normally right there with him—or would be soon. And as frustrated and confused as he is with the entire situation, his eyes still seek Dean out whenever they can. He catches Gabriel’s eye a few times afterwards, and though he may be imagining it, he thinks he sees an understanding in his brother's face that scares him. Not because it means being found out, he would put money on Gabriel knowing his secret long before Dean ever showed up, but because if his brother could piece it together from the looks Castiel keeps sending to an unreceptive Dean, he was a lot less subtle than he thought.</p><p>It doesn't help the matter that as the day goes on, Gabriel’s look turns into a smile that Castiel would quite like to wipe off his face. He doesn’t know why it's there and he doesn’t think he wants to know.</p><p>A few of them find themselves on the porch with Hannah, who after several days of seeing but not truly being part of the festivities, had grown sick of it all and wanted to sit with her siblings in the shade. This annoyingly makes Gabriel’s smile larger. The look in Gabriel’s eyes reminds him of the look he’d received as a child when they had travelled into town and Castiel, young and far too obvious for his own good, had his attention caught by a young man running around in the street laughing and screaming. Gabriel had been the one to nudge him out of his wistful staring, and through his downcast eyes and incriminating blush, he had seen his brother give him a look that said ‘I think I know what I just saw and I love you but I'm not going to call attention to this’ before he turned back to their family, leaving Castiel to compose himself.</p><p>He had appreciated the fact that Gabriel hadn’t ever brought up the event again, though he still sometimes looked at Castiel as though he was trying to convey some type of understanding of the situation. Now though, the look of understanding is simply grating.</p><p>Hours later, as the day winds down, Castiel finds himself on the porch again, alone this time. Anna had said that she left a toy out here while they sat with Hannah earlier and Castiel had offered to grab it. The chaos of the house had increased as supper approached and even if the break was only a few seconds long, he relished the calm.</p><p>He can't see Anna’s toy anywhere; he even goes so far as to check in the dirt and sparse flowers that line the raised porch. Gabriel shouts at him through an open window while his head is stuck far closer to a bush than he would have liked, given the gentle wind that's picked up—the last thing anyone needs is him ending up with a stick in his eye—but he ignores his brother, raising his arm into the air and making a ‘go away’ gesture with it.</p><p>If Gabriel responds he doesn't hear it, too focused on the fact that as he turns his head, he catches sight of Dean watching him. Dean hasn't yet taken notice that he’s been caught in his staring and as such hasn’t had the wherewithal to stop. Castiel would have said a week or so ago that if he caught Dean watching him, his only feeling would have been that of excitement, but after the week he’s had all it does is fill him with an uncomfortable feeling somewhere between anger and disappointment.</p><p>As he walks into the house, he spares another glance towards Dean but is only greeted with the man's back as he walks towards the stables. Castiel huffs a disconcerted laugh at his own intense inner monologue. Dean seems so unbothered by the distance between them lately, and he can bet that Dean is not sparing him a single thought right now, nor would he even if their roles were reversed and Castiel was the one being cold.</p><p>He slides past Raphael in the hall as his brother heads up to his room where his young daughter is napping. He thinks that if he’s to miss anything about not following the same path as his older siblings, it's that he won't get to have the experience of rousing his sleeping child, warm and pliant from their rest. He’s done it often enough with his siblings to know how uniquely special it is to feel their heavy little head thump down against his shoulder and their arms wrap around his neck as they slowly wake up more.</p><p>Then again, if he had to suffer through a life that he never wanted, a life he could barely think of handling now let alone when faced with it, to get that experience again he would gladly pass it up. It wouldn't be fair to him or his wife or even the children they would have.</p><p>Gabriel catches him in the schoolroom as he’s looking again for Anna’s toy. He doesn't hear him walk up and when he speaks Castiel can’t help but jump.</p><p>“You know she has you wrapped around her little finger, don’t you?”</p><p>“I am all too aware, Gabriel. However, if my only tasks are to search out her toys and let her scare me as she comes down the hall for supper, I hardly see how it is of any trouble to be,” he replies as he spots the toy peeking out from behind a desk.</p><p>“Little brother, you always were kinder than the world deserved, always allowed yourself to be subservient to it… always allowed others to take precedence,” Gabriel says airily as though the conversation wasn't on such a heavy subject.</p><p>“It costs me nothing to be as such,” Castiel replies. He can tell that the nature of this conversation is vastly different from most he has with his brother, Gabriel’s wording alone tells him more than anything, no banter or joking, nothing like his brother's usual manner of speaking.</p><p>“I would think you’re quite wrong there Cassie, putting your feelings aside so often; does it not cost you your happiness?” he says, his eyes focussed intently on Castiel.</p><p>He feels far too much like prey than he would care to, caught in a trap that his brother likely doesn’t know he’s set.</p><p>“Gabriel, I—” he starts but finds that he has nothing to say, words frozen along with his mind.</p><p>“Cassie, surely you know that I know the truth, and I am more than happy to keep that to myself for as long as you would like me to; but I felt it necessary to say that while I caught you staring at that boy today more times than I think I stared at Kali the first time I met her, I believe that I caught him looking at you as well, far more than a normal farmhand should look at the one who taught him. Though I must add that each time he did so, he turned the instant he thought you might see him. It was almost as though he couldn't help himself.” Gabriel's voice barely carries, it's dropped so low.</p><p>Anger and frustration bubble up inside him again. What the hell is wrong with Dean? He isolates himself, calls Castiel by a name he knows he hates, turns every interaction cold, and yet he watches him throughout the day, and if Gabriel caught it, Dean would have to have been looking at him for days. None of it made sense, and that only served to upset him more.</p><p>He’s had enough of this confusion, has had enough of this treatment without explanation. His brother gives him a look that shows his understanding yet again as he takes the toy from his hands, and for the first time in years, Castiel is glad to be on the receiving end of that look.</p><p>“Ma! I’m going on a walk for a bit, I’ll be back for supper. I just want to get some fresh air quickly,” he calls as he leaves the house, not waiting for a response. He knows Gabriel will cover for him if it comes to that. Right now he is too driven by the thoughts that have taken residence in his mind over the last week to care.</p><p>His feet carry him to the stables much faster than he’s used to and he has to pause when he nears the door, stealing his courage to confront Dean. Though, it's all for nought because Dean isn’t in the stables. He sees the horses though, spots Ringer, who is already doing far better than either he or his pa would have thought after only two weeks of training, standing calmly in his stable.</p><p>He’s about to head to Dean’s barn when he hears a thump from behind the stable. He rounds the corner and sees Dean fumbling with the roofing pieces that his pa had mentioned needing to be installed to keep the horses comfortable.</p><p>“Just fine by yourself huh?” he watches as Dean jumps, clearly not having expected to have anyone near him. Dean recovers quickly and turns marginally towards him.</p><p>“I’ve been managing,” Dean says with a clipped tone.</p><p>“Doesn’t seem like it to me, Dean,” he says as Dean looks at him and sighs heavily.</p><p>“What are you doing here Ca—” Dean's jaw clicks as it snaps shut, cutting off what he knew would have been his name had Dean let himself say it.</p><p>Oddly, Dean sounds as though he is equally as frustrated as Castiel himself is and beyond tired, but not physically—though Castiel can see that the man is bone tired from the work he’s been doing. Dean’s exhaustion looks as if it was a sort of whole body depression that had taken over his form. He sounds about as fed up as Castiel feels. Knowing this does nothing to comfort Castiel, if anything it infuriates him beyond what he had been feeling before. Dean was the one that started this, he was the one who decided to change so drastically overnight and give no reason for it, why should Dean be feeling the same as he is, what right to this pain and torment does Dean have?</p><p>“I went on a walk, needed to get out of the house for a bit,” he lies with a raised eyebrow, hoping to tell Dean that he heard the slip-up.</p><p>“And your walk brought you here? All this land and you ended up at the stables?” Dean asks clearly not believing him for a moment.</p><p>“Appears so, yes,” he says, gesturing about himself with outstretched arms. “I fail to see why you would care if it had.”</p><p>Dean rolls his eyes and huffs in a clear show of exasperation, “And I still fail to see why you came out here.”</p><p>“You seem to be the one with the answer to that, not me,” he shoots back, not wanting to play into whatever game Dean’s hedging at.</p><p>The look he gets in response is more cloaked than any Dean has given him yet. The way his face morphs is beyond Castiel’s comprehension.</p><p>“Just go home, your family is here, spend time with them before you cozy up to your mother's wishes and you only see them all once or twice a year.”</p><p>Castiel is taken aback by the low blow Dean just dealt him, for all he’s talked about his disagreements with his ma about the practice of marriage, he thought Dean would understand how falling into line would make him feel more like a fraud than anything else and how much he would hate himself for doing so. Not willing to give him the satisfaction of a response, Castiel soldiers on.</p><p>“Not until you tell me what the fuck has been going on this past week.” If Dean is shocked by Castiel’s use of language he doesn't show it. “You say nothing to me, you avoid me as best you can and yet my brother tells me in confidence that he’s seen you looking at the house in what he assumes to be an attempt to watch me, and then I catch you doing the same not thirty minutes ago.”</p><p>Dean scoffs, “You're smart enough, I'm sure you can piece it together.”</p><p>“No I can’t, no matter what I come up with it doesn’t fit, and for some reason in a matter of a single day everything changed, all I tried, all I wanted was to be your friend, De—”</p><p>“I don't need your pity, Cas!” Dean says rushing up to him, anger clear as ever in his voice, “I don’t need it and I don’t need your fucking friendship so you can piss right off for all I care. I’ve done plenty fine on my own and I sure as hell don’t need some dick who thinks so highly of himself for being nice to the kid who’s been alone all his life to pretend to care about me.” Dean’s shouting now and all Castiel can do is stand there. “You think that what? Y-you give me a name, treat me like you would anyone else, gather up every piece of me that I’ve never shared because of this exact reason and go and share it with your family? Laugh about it by yourself? Use it against me the instant you can? If that’s friendship, I can assure you that I'm not as desperate for a friend as you think I am.”</p><p>“That’s what all this is about? You think I pity you?” he asks as serious as he is incredulous, then he pauses, remembering the argument with his father, how Dean just recited back to him what he had told his father and it clicks. Dean had only been cold and distant because he had heard what Castiel said to his father that night at the house. “Dean, it isn't pity, damned if I know what it is for sure, but it isn't, hasn't ever been pity.”</p><p>He can see that Dean is gearing up to rebuke him so he continues far quicker than he would have liked, “I had to askew my father’s growing assumptions, if he believed what he had for any longer we both would have been in trouble, hell we might have both been in danger.”</p><p>He doesn't want to do this, doesn't want to expose himself but it's the only way he can think of to make Dean understand.</p><p>“My father began to catch on to whatever it was we were doing, being friends of some kind, but I could tell he was keen on going after you for it, perhaps it’s his bias towards me, perhaps it’s not. I truly don’t know my pa well enough to tell you one way or the other. Dean, I had to lie for both our sakes, do you think that if I was truly being friends with you out of pity that I would have continued pressing so hard after those first days, and then again a week ago when you shut me out? I was trying to be your friend because I enjoy your company. Far more than I have just about anyone else in my life, and certainly more than I have any stranger I’ve met.”</p><p>“You expect me to believe that, Cas? If it was apparently so easy to lie to your pa, how am I to know you’re not just lying as easily now?” Dean says, there's a war going on within him that Castiel can see clear as day.</p><p>“I suppose you can’t,” he says, taking the small victory of Dean saying his name. He hadn’t known how much he had missed Dean using his name until just now.</p><p>Dean is quiet for a moment, so he stays silent too. He can see Dean working through all of what he said, piecing together a narrative that would both serve what he already thought to be true and, what Castiel can only assume is, the evidence to support the story he’s told Dean.</p><p>“What did you mean by ‘we’d both be in danger’ and your father’s ‘bias towards you’,” Dean asks unexpectedly. He waits for Castiel to respond but he’s not quite able to yet. “Cas, what did you mean by ‘damned if I know what this is’?” he asks and Castiel is still frozen, cursing himself for being far more blatant than he had intended to be.</p><p>His goal had been to give Dean just enough to know his friendship was real, but he’d gone so far as to give him all the fuel he would need to ruin him if he so chooses.</p><p>It would be easy enough to deflect, change the topic and move past the slip-ups, but he gets the sense that even if it works for right now, Dean isn't going to let this go in the long run.</p><p>“I find it reasonable to assume that you already know, Dean. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must go tell my brother that he shouldn't be so flippant with matters such as these. I do hope you will allow me the decency of keeping my reputation intact.” His voice and words sound so unlike himself, or rather so unlike the self he gets to be when he’s with Dean. Now it's perfunctory, emotionless and so proper that it sounds foreign even to his own ears. He turns to leave quickly when a hand grips tightly on his upper left arm.</p><p>Dean's eyes are wide when he turns back, searching Castiel’s for any sign that he is reading this whole situation wrong. He doesn’t make Dean let go. He thinks that he should maybe try to salvage what is left of this situation, but he finds himself drawn towards the other man, just like always. Their eyes never waver, and he feels a profound sense of trust flowing between them.</p><p>“Cas?” Is all Dean says, the word is let out on a breath, barely audible over the rushing in his ears.</p><p>He nods gently, not much more than a single rise and fall of his head, but still, it answers whatever question Dean saw fit to ask.</p><p>He doesn’t know how they end up so close together, too lost in the deep green of Dean’s eyes to care.</p><p>His hand reaches up to Dean’s shoulder. It was only a few weeks ago that it was wrapped in a sling, creating a bridge between them that allowed for gentle touches and a closeness that he now knows they both had wanted so desperately, before it slides up to the base of Dean’s neck as Dean’s does the same. He stares at Dean and Dean stares back.</p><p>For all his awareness of each movement, he isn't prepared when Dean walks himself backwards moving them out of the setting sun's reach. Though they aren’t directly under it, the indirect light causes Dean’s eyes to shine brighter. Castiel’s gaze drops to Dean’s lips as Dean’s back hits the weathered side of the stables. It’s all too slow and too quick, his mind too caught up in bouncing between everything that’s happening, to focus on one thing for long.</p><p>His body aches to press against Dean’s, his thoughts already driven indecent by having Dean this close. Without thinking, his tongue slips past his own bottom lip and his breath catches as Dean’s eyes flick down at the movement. Resting his other hand against Dean’s hip, he tightens his fingers, faintly gripping the hair at the base of his neck and with a final look into Dean’s eyes—which he notes with some satisfaction are already slipping shut—brushes his lips against Dean’s. Gentle, testing to start but the apprehension doesn’t last.</p><p>Dean lets out a noise he thinks the man would be ashamed of in different circumstances and surges forward. The hard press of soft lips has his body taking over and shoving Dean hard against the wall behind him. A moan rises unbidden from his throat when Dean runs his tongue along their slotted lips.</p><p>Any gentleness that lingered between them disappears with that noise, Dean’s fingers grip almost painfully into his hair at the back of his head as his other arm comes up to loop around his neck, drawing him in closer. He bites at Castiel’s lips when they open for him and that seems to be what causes Castiel to break. He slots his legs with Dean’s as his tongue works its way into his mouth.</p><p>It’s domineering, captivating in its power and Castiel finds himself going delirious with it. When Dean wrenches his mouth away for air, Castiel doesn't stop, moving down to the line of his jaw, the tender skin just below his ear and the warmth of Dean’s pulse point. He smirks against the wetted skin when Dean’s head falls back against the wall, and a sharp bolt of arousal carries itself down to rest low in his abdomen.</p><p>“Shit, Cas,” Dean says, as sinful as anything and as reverent as a prayer, as one hand digs into the flesh of Castiel’s shoulder. He can almost imagine the marks it must be laying into his unmarred skin and it ramps up the desire he can feel coursing through every part of his body.</p><p>He mouths his way up again to Dean’s lips, threading a hand through his hair and tugging until his head turns back to face Castiel. His tugging causes Dean to stumble and shift slightly against the wall and the movement draws his attention sharply to Dean’s growing arousal against his hip. Knowing that Dean wants this as much as he does has him groaning into Dean’s mouth.</p><p>He drives his hips forward as he draws Dean into him with the hand he has on Dean’s side and feels his own hardness press against the well of Dean’s hip. Pleasure erupts in his gut from the movement and sparks of it shoot around and come to rest at the base of his spine as Dean gives a small shout.</p><p>Their tongues meld together, stroking as they stoke the fire that builds between them, an insistence that has Castiel wanting to drop to his knees. Each pass, hot and wet as they lick into each other's mouths, each pull of his hair as Dean’s fist tightens against the strands, each solid brush of their cocks together through the layers of their clothes orchestrated by his hand, has Castiel edging closer to rapture. But if he’s going to sin, he figures he might as well go for glory.</p><p>Dean whines when he pulls back, and in the quick look Castiel gets, he can see the confusion in Dean’s eyes and the quick flash of stoicism as he prepares to be rebuffed.</p><p>Castiel slides his hand up to Dean's cheek, a gesture he’s not sure will be welcome. Some men are fine with the softer side of such forays, some balk at the idea of being intimate in that way with a man, but the hitch in Dean’s breath tells him all he needs to know. The stoic look disappears from Dean’s eyes as he slides his hands down over the swell of his chest and down to the hem of his shirt. Teasingly, he runs a finger under the seam of his trousers, elated at the twitching of the warm skin before he sinks heavily to his knees, hands still attached to Dean’s waist.</p><p>He noses at the hard line of Dean’s cock, breathing in the scent of his arousal bleeding through the trappings of his pants.</p><p>Above him, Dean sucks a ragged breath through clenched teeth as he takes in the sight of Castiel on his knees for him. The knowledge that it causes Dean such intense arousal emboldens him.</p><p>He looks up at Dean through his own haze of lust and sees that the man's eyes have lost all but a small sliver of their vibrant green, the colour swallowed by his blown out pupils.</p><p>“Dean, let me take you in my mouth,” he pleads, the need to have the weight of his length in his mouth outweighing any sense of not seeming too desperate.</p><p>Dean’s blacked out eyes slam shut as he nods. Tremors rock down his body and he cants his hips forward ever so slightly as the need that courses through him reaches a high.</p><p>He makes no show of removing Dean’s offending clothing, too needy himself to wait even a second longer than required to have what he wants presented to him. When his cock bobs free, thick and leaking at the tip, he moans and presses himself into Dean’s pelvis and tongues at the heavy base of it.</p><p>“Cas,” Dean says in a choked off groan. “Please.”</p><p>Castiel leans back, running his tongue ever so gently against his shaft, revelling in the twitches of Dean’s hips.</p><p>He swirls his tongue around the head, laying extra pressure against the ridge where the shaft connects and sliding his tongue through his slit, gathering the bitter fluid that had collected there. He moans at the taste of Dean on his tongue before leaning in and swallowing his cockhead, laving his tongue around it. One hand comes up to grip the base of him as Castiel uses the other for leverage and control.</p><p>Dean’s hips pitch forward the moment his lips close around his head and something overcomes Castiel, causing him to shove Dean’s hips back against the wall, taking full control over the pleasure Dean can take from this.</p><p>He peers up through the fringe of hair that’s fallen against his forehead and swallows around the heavy weight of him. Dean’s hand comes up and threads itself through the hair on the crown of his head, pulling gently as he pets through it. His eyes are glazed over, shrouded with lust and Castiel’s breath catches when Dean’s hand cups his cheek, mirroring what he had done earlier.</p><p>Refocusing his efforts, he pulls off the head and runs his tongue around it before diving back in and taking as much as he can of Dean into his mouth. As he starts bobbing up Dean’s length and down again, his own erection becomes harder to ignore. Snaking a hand down, he presses against his prominent bulge letting slip a small groan at the much needed contact.</p><p>“<em>Ah</em> Cas, don’t come, wanna put my mouth on you too,” Dean says between little gasps and tugs of his thoroughly fucked hair. Castiel’s cock jumps at Dean’s words and he imagines how Dean may look poised on his knees; it is almost too much to take.</p><p>He slows as he takes more of Dean into his mouth. They both groan when Dean’s cockhead nudges against the narrow passage of the top of his throat. He tries to slow his breathing as Dean’s length cuts off his airway, using his focus of running his tongue along the underside of Dean’s shaft to help. He strokes what he can’t take in his mouth with a spit slick fist driving himself more fervent with each pass of his hands.</p><p>“You look a vision with my cock in your mouth Cas,” Dean grinds out, his face scrunched in his pleasure. His breaths have been reduced solely to small huffs, cut off and pushed from his lungs with every half aborted thrust into Castiel's mouth.</p><p>As Castiel hollows his cheeks and swallows around the thick intrusion he abandons his cock to reach below his bobbing head and palm at Dean’s balls. Dean’s hips jerk forward at the touch and his cock hits the back of Castiel’s throat but he doesn't stop. Dean’s muscles start to tense around him and he knows the man must be close. Keeping Dean’s sack in his palm, Castiel reaches back and brushes a finger lightly against his perineum. Dean jerks forward again as his hips begin to stutter in their rhythm and Castiel presses a knuckle firmly against the same spot.</p><p>With a choked out cry, Dean releases himself into Castiel's sealed mouth. He continues to bob up and down as strip after strip of Dean’s come falls against his tongue and throat. He grunts out a moan at the salty taste and as Dean falls back against the wall, he takes care to lick his softening cock clean of his spend. Careful not to make Dean twitchy and sore from overstimulation, he stands as he raises Dean’s pants to cover him up.</p><p>It takes Dean only a second longer to come back from the haze that must have hit him after he came. When he does, he reaches out and grasps Castiel by the neck, pulling him in for a starving kiss, bruising in its force and beyond incredible. He can’t help it when his hips rock forwards against Dean’s strong thigh, nor can he stop the small sound of relief as his aching cock gets even the slightest bit of attention.</p><p>He was careful not to leave any marks visible on Dean’s skin, mouthing more than sucking into the soft, tanned warmth, but Dean seems to be too lost in his own pleasure to have the mind to do the same as he kisses his way to Castiel’s neck, already sucking with fervour.</p><p>“No marks where they’ll see,” he manages to get out between the increasing waves of pleasure that hit his form.</p><p>Dean takes this in stride and when he slips to his knees in front of Castiel he lifts the hem of his shirt before leaning in and sucking small bruises into the skin of his stomach and hips. Dean bites at the skin gently and Castiel has to throw a hand out to support himself on the wall as the other lands itself into Dean’s short, sun blonde hair.</p><p>Dean laves his tongue over the red marks on his abdomen and the feeling of his strong wet tongue on his hot skin rekindles the burning desire that licks flames across his body.</p><p>“Touch me, please Dean,” he begs, not at all caring for how desperate he sounds, not if it gets him some relief. He cries out when Dean palms him through his pants and his eyes slam shut when Dean leans in to breathe him in, just as he had done earlier. The hot wet breath seeping through the layers makes him weak at the knees. A coy smile plays at Dean’s lips when he opens his eyes again. <em>So it's going to be like that</em>, he thinks.</p><p>“Dean,” he says as he tightens the grip in his hair, causing him to jerk back with the force of it, he doesn't have to say anything else, Dean’s eyes haze again as he takes in what Castiel can only imagine is a face that brooks no argument in its heat.</p><p>He loosens his grip when Dean pulls at the waist of his trousers. He drives his nails into the wall of the stables, sure that he is leaving crescent shapes in the wood but not caring in the slightest, who's going to see them really aside from him and Dean. It would be a constant reminder of what they are doing etched into the wood, just as couples etch their initials into the bark of trees. This is their proof, hidden as it must be but known to them, forever carved in history.</p><p>His attention is snapped back to Dean, on his knees for him, as he pulls down the band of his pants and releases his erection from its confines. He watches in awe as Dean runs his tongue along the ridge of his cockhead and his hips jerk forward when Dean laps at the milky fluid that's collected at his slit.</p><p>Dean takes the head of his cock into his mouth; the pressure is blinding and the heat of his wet tongue along the underside of his shaft is beyond anything he’s experienced before.</p><p>He gets lost watching Dean bob his head down to meet his hand where it grips the base of his cock. His carefully constructed control shatters as Dean begins to inch farther down his shaft, his moans send vibrations up the remaining length and he can barely hold back the canting of his hips, desperate to have more of his cock surrounded by that perfect heat.</p><p>Flashes of heat overwhelm him as he stares at Dean. His hand flexes and tenses both against the wall and into Dean’s hair.</p><p>“Oh <em>fuck</em>, your mouth, ‘s so perfect,” he groans.</p><p>Dean looks up and his eyes bore into Castiel’s, he holds the stare while never slowing in his ministrations. Dean's free hand, the one that had been burning where it laid splayed against his bare hip bone lifts up to grab at his own where it’s perched in Dean’s hair. Shock and a surge of heat shakes him to his core as Dean begins pushing Castiel’s hand, effectively fucking his own face until Castiel understands the directive.</p><p>“<em>Dean</em>, ” he croaks out as he begins to move Dean’s head as he wishes, still with half a mind not to choke the man.</p><p>It’s obscene, watching his achingly hard cock pass through the channel of Dean’s taut mouth, watching as Dean gives himself over for Castiel’s use. He feels the stirrings of his climax low in his groin, feels it creep its way down to his balls. His breath is punched from his lungs again as he watches Dean’s eyes roll back into his head whenever he is a titch overzealous in his thrusting.</p><p>He thrusts harder again and almost loses himself with the moan that rips itself from Dean’s throat.</p><p>“You like that huh? Can’t even get off anymore and you’re still loving it.” He’d never been one for such talk while being intimate, though that was partly because he and the person he was with couldn't afford to be heard. But with Dean, and the seclusion behind the stables, something within him snaps and filthy words tumble from his mouth without hesitation.</p><p>He groans low in his chest as he feels his arousal tighten impossibly in his pelvis. Dean copies his own earlier movements and rolls his sack around his palm, caressing the crease with his fingers as Castiel uses his mouth like Dean wants him to.</p><p>Castiel is careening towards his peak and quickly losing the modicum of control he had over his movements. Somewhere far off in his brain he thinks he must be brutalizing Dean’s throat, but the other man seems to be having no complaints. Castiel's fist isn’t gripped so tightly that Dean couldn’t move away if he needed to but staring down at him, Castiel can see clear as day that he loves this.</p><p>Dean’s eyes snap up to meet Castiel’s and that has his orgasm washing over him with immense force. The image of his come painting Dean’s mouth makes it all the more intense.</p><p>Choked off shouts push themselves past his lips as he rides through the waves of pleasure. He vaguely registers Dean cleaning him and making him presentable the same way he had as he comes down from the high.</p><p>When the haze dissipates Dean is standing in front of him looking oddly bashful. Taking a chance, he leans in again and catches Dean’s soft lips in a tender kiss. A gentle whimper makes its way out of his parted lips as he pulls back, Dean doesn’t seem like he’s done as he leans back in, catching the back of Castiel’s neck with his hand to keep him close.</p><p>When they do pull back Castiel rests his forehead against Dean’s and just breathes for some time with his eyes closed and hands on Dean’s waist. He doesn't want to leave. He is content to spend as long as he can in this little bubble they’ve made for themselves, but he’s aware that if he spends too long out here his family will get curious and he’s not sure he has it in him right now to lie or talk his way out of their questioning.</p><p>“I guess that answers my question as to why you got so distant this past week,” Castiel says quietly.</p><p>Dean gives his shoulder a light shove as he says, “What an astute observation.”</p><p>Twin smiles grace their faces, Dean seems to understand that he can’t stay long without him having to say it. Which he’s grateful for.</p><p>“Can I come by tonight with your supper?” he asks, hoping beyond anything that this wasn’t a one time thing or that Dean doesn’t think it a mistake.</p><p>“I would have expected you to,” Dean says before cracking a mischievous smile, “and bring the flask while you're at it, Cas.”</p><p>“I did always wonder if I was the only one reading into that,” he replies, taking a step back to give Dean a once over, checking for any obvious evidence of what they’d just done. He motions for Dean to do the same for him and gets a hand through his hair before Dean deems him clear.</p><p>He can't help but spend a few more minutes in Dean’s presence, his once tough exterior chipped away again. Castiel knows that Dean has a kind heart, it’s as clear as can be through the sacrifices he has made for his brother. But to be allowed to see the softer side of him again, especially after everything that has happened this week, is so much greater than he would have thought.</p><p>As he walks back to his house, he steals a few glances over his shoulder at the stables, each time he sees Dean’s head poking out from the side. Each time an identical smile makes its home on his kiss reddened lips. He thinks he may still have to give Gabriel a talk about not meddling but he can’t find it in him to be angry after what he gained from his older brother’s interference.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So I know chapter three showed a busy household but I said crank that up to eleven and add more than double the number of people because who doesn't love some chaos?!</p><p>A lot went down in this chapter as well and we should all be thankful for Gabriel stepping in and helping them out.</p><p>Now just for clarities sake, Michael is apocalypse world Michael in this story, Raphael is in the male vessel, the other siblings are in their most well known/only vessels, and for the other children they've been aged down significantly so just imagine them in their most common/well known vessels but as children.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Calm of a Respite in Times of Distress</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean’s life hadn't been one of joy, years spent sleeping with one eye open to keep him and his brother safe, trading whatever he could—labour, food, what little he had that people may want—so that he could afford things for Sam. Taking whatever job people would offer him to scrounge up enough money to buy clothes and school supplies. For years all he could do was pray that the next day would be better, that he would stumble upon even a small money pouch that had been dropped as people travelled or shopped. His prayers were left unanswered for so long he stopped believing that someone was listening to them. Sam however held his faith much longer than Dean ever had, he’s sure that even to this day his brother has that faith tucked warmly in his soul.</p><p>For all Dean has suffered in his life, it was a special kind of torture to live through the week after he had heard Cas’ lie to his father. Each interaction carved away at his hastily raised walls, and as angry as he was with Cas, at the situation he found himself in, he was even angrier at himself. Angry because he believed for even just a second that there was anything else behind Cas’ interest other than pity. Dean was most angry at himself, however, because try as he might, he couldn’t stop the pull Cas had on him. All week, as Cas spent his days inside with his family, Dean watched for the chance to glimpse him through the windows. Never before had he gone through a day's work so distracted. It infuriated him that he couldn't control himself enough to forget about Cas. That despite the betrayal, the man still held so much of his attention throughout the day.</p><p>Of course it didn’t help that Cas himself seemed hellbent on pretending still, even after Dean called him Sir <em>to his face</em> Cas hadn’t received the memo.</p><p>Then his brothers and sister arrived and all he heard from the home was laughter and talking. The lights stayed on far longer than any other night since his arrival on the farm. They rose later in the mornings, the children screamed and laughed and played with their nieces and nephews. The family was the picture of everything Dean had wished he could have had growing up. He's not proud to say it but he cried the first night all of Cas’ siblings were home; the anger, sadness, betrayal, and frustration clouding together in his brain and reducing him to an emotional wreck unlike he’d ever been, not even when his mother died, and especially not when his father died.</p><p>And to make matters worse, Cas had asked him about it the next morning. Of course, <em>now</em> he understands that nothing had changed, except for him, in that week for Cas. And then in all his righteous fury, Cas had cornered him in the stables and demanded an explanation. How was Dean supposed to answer? He hardly understood the breadth of his feelings himself, let alone try to put them into words for Cas to hear.</p><p>He’d been made dumb by Cas’ unintentional admittance, but the look of saddened resignation that pulled his face so low as Cas made to leave spurred him into action and it had done them both a world of good for him to take that chance.</p><p>It had taken them nearly a day for the lingering cowardice to disappear, both afraid that the other wanted to forget what they’d done. The same night, only hours after he had been pressed against the side of the stables, when Cas brought his supper and the flask, there had been an undeniable tension hung suffocatingly in the air.</p><p>He had spent time with Remy as he waited, it seemed a requirement of his body to not remain stagnant. He was still at her side, petting her flank when the door clattered.</p><p>Cas had walked in and sat with him just as he usually did before the misunderstanding. They talked as Dean ate, as they usually did, but when his meal was over and Cas brought the flask to his lips, Dean heard himself swallow audibly and found himself moving closer to Cas. Cas in turn had shuffled his way over as well, he mentioned that he couldn’t stay too long, what with his family up in the house waiting for him, but Dean hadn't cared, he’d pulled Cas into a commanding kiss, savouring the growl he was gifted in return for his sudden and enthusiastic advances. He’d climbed into Cas’ lap and within minutes they were bare from the ass up, chests heaving, lightheaded, cleaning themselves up best they could.</p><p>Cas hadn’t stayed long after that and once he did an emptiness moved its way into Dean's chest.</p><p>By the same time the following day, after again spending it apart due to the presence of Cas’ family still being on the farm, they’d seemed to have come to a mutual understanding, one that didn't require the flask to incite action. Though it was only regarding the continuation of their dalliances and spoke nothing of the feelings Dean continued to spend so much of his time sorting through.</p><p>Dean had no idea if Cas shared any of the softer feelings he had growing inside his chest, or if it was all just lust from the other man, so he pushed them aside. The last thing he wanted after the week he’d had was to end up without Cas again because he’d gone and allowed himself to imagine even a sliver of a happy ending. And so he tried to ignore the many times Cas caught him staring and replied in kind with a softer gaze of his own, one that Dean was sure was only shared between lovers and accepted anything the man saw fit to give.</p><p>The day Cas’ family left, save for Gabriel and his wife, was the first day in more than a week that they had spent mostly together. Dean wasn’t sure that night if the decrease in work completed would be noticed by Cas’ father, he also wasn’t sure if the reddened lips of his son’s mouth and stubble raw chin would go unnoticed.</p><p>He learned quickly that while his family hadn’t noticed, Gabriel had. Cas told him that they had to be more careful because he wouldn’t survive the teasing, especially because it meant that Gabriel was far more correct than he first thought he was which, according to Cas, was an insufferable reality for him to have to live with.</p><p>Now he sits in the shade of the same tree he and Cas sat under during their first lesson, calmly taking in the sounds of the birds, the way the leaves dance in the breeze, and the shapes he can make with the elongated shadow of his fingers as the sun heads to rest against the horizon again.</p><p>He doesn’t expect to be interrupted, more than content to take this moment of peace as his own, but rarely is it that peace lasts long.</p><p>When he hears the telltale clatter of the door, he sits up a little straighter, either it’s Charles coming out to talk to him or it’s Cas coming to see him. One means he sits up out of respect, the other he does so out of interest.</p><p>Imagine his shock when neither man stepped up beside him. Before Dean even has a chance to stand up to speak to the man, he sits down beside Dean, legs stretched out in front of him, his feet tapping together gently in a steady beat.</p><p>“Hello Dean,” the man says, and with two simple words leaves him stunned. Cas is the only one he’s ever heard use his name before. He assumed Cas hadn’t shared it with his family, and yet here he was being addressed by it as though it was the most normal occurrence in the world. Once the shock passes and he’s able to think better, he realizes that the man beside him must be Gabriel, but Dean’s never been introduced to Cas’ family, and he in no way wants to assume or offend.</p><p>“Hello, Sir,” Dean says, sending a sidelong glance to the man, his brown hair is far longer than what most consider appropriate, it reminds of how Sam’s hair looked last he saw.</p><p>“Oh please call me Gabriel, 'Sir' is so stuffy and formal,” Gabriel says with a put upon shudder as he pulls a small candy from his pocket. He offers it to Dean but having never gathered a proclivity for sweets he declines. Gabriel gives a half-shrug before he unwraps the treat and tosses it quite impressively into the air and catches it in his open mouth.</p><p>“Cas gave the same impression of his opinion of the word,” Dean says in an attempt to relate to the man.</p><p>“Cassie’s always been one to shy from formality and propriety because he thinks himself unworthy of the titles. Me, I just don’t like them, ask my wife, as much as I seem to conform, I do quite despise tradition.”</p><p>Dean has to laugh a little at Gabriel's name for his brother, he can’t imagine Cas enjoys it much if he knows anything about the man. Gabriel looks slightly affronted at Dean’s reaction, no doubt assuming it was in response to his assertion of his own distaste regarding decorum.</p><p>“Sorry, I have no reason to doubt you in that regard, but ‘Cassie’? He told me to call him Cas.” There is a familiar warmth that runs down his spine when he thinks of the familiarity that the nickname suggests, Dean can see in his sly smile that Gabriel is not unaware of that familiarity.</p><p>“Yes, well he never was very fond of that particular nickname but, I think that as an older brother it is within my rights, nay it is my duty to ignore that entirely,” he says as he draws his foot up to pick at the debris on it.</p><p>“My brother Sam is the same way, always has been, but he’ll never stop being Sammy to me, not even in his old age.” The ever present itch that forms when he talks of his brother returns, but Dean is chuffed to discover that it's nowhere near as overpowering as it had been.</p><p>“You have just the one?”</p><p>“Yeah, we’re a small family,” Dean says as he rips a fallen leaf into thin strips. “I assume Cas gave you my name?”</p><p>“I asked about you after he came home the day before last; felt it was necessary to gain whatever information I could about you,” Gabriel says with another sly look.</p><p>“And are you here to tell me to disappear in the night and to never to show my face again on your land?” Dean asks, resigned but challenging, he doesn't want the response to be a yes but he knows that he has no place in which to bargain from. It would either be, leave and never speak of this again or, at worst, ruin whatever shreds of a reputation he still has.</p><p>“What? No not at all. The only thing I want is to see my brother happy, he gives so much of himself to others and never accepts anything in return. He deserves to find happiness. I know it's… dangerous for him to live as he does, but I know he has no choice in it. I don't pretend to understand it fully, but if Castiel could be as happy with a man as I am with my wife, he should be.”</p><p>Gabriel is watching him now as though Dean would have cause to argue with him. As if he ever would.</p><p>“I came out here to say, I’m not going to hurt either of you by exposing your relationship, but Dean, if you hurt my brother, I will do everything in my power to protect him. The only way that doesn't happen is if he begs for me not to, and while my brother is kinder than he should be I’m not sure he is that kind.”</p><p>He can’t say he’s overly surprised with Gabriel’s motivations; in fact, he quite admires them.</p><p>“I understand Gabriel, in truth, as it stands, to make me leave Cas would have to be the one to send me away himself.” Dean’s not being completely honest; if he thought that he was putting Cas in danger he would leave in an instant no matter what Cas said. But Gabriel doesn’t need to know that.</p><p>“Well I’ve got to say you took that much better than the last person who showed interest in one of my younger siblings, I’m quite impressed.”</p><p>“You aren’t the first person to threaten me Gabriel, and while I know you fully intend to make good on your words, you are also much less intimidating than some of the people who’ve uttered those other threats,” he says as they both stand, brushing the dirt from their pants.</p><p>“I have half a mind to be offended but seeing how our statures compare—” he passes a critical eye along Dean’s taller form, “—I’m understanding a bit better,” Gabriel says as he sticks out his hand.</p><p>Dean grasps it in his own, making sure to match the force Gabriel is using. They walk back towards the house together engaging in idle chatter, Gabriel asks where he gained the skills he uses in his work here, Dean counters with a question about Gabriel’s livelihood. It’s oddly comfortable for two people who until mere minutes ago hadn’t shared even a look between them. He doesn’t get up in arms about the questions either, quite unlike how he felt when Cas had started in on him during the first days of their budding friendship. He reasons he has Cas to thank for that.</p><p>That night when Cas shows up with his supper he’s pulled almost immediately into a kiss, it's reckless, in a way that lights a fire in his blood, doing so almost in view of the house.</p><p>“Gabriel told me he came out to talk to you,” Cas says as he nears the end of his meal.</p><p>“And what exactly did he say?” Dean asks playfully.</p><p>“He said that you didn’t wilt like a flower at his threats,” Cas responds with a pointed look, though Dean knows it's at his brother's actions and not his own. “And that he likes you well enough.”</p><p>“High praise, I see,” Dean jokes and has to laugh when Cas rolls his eyes.</p><p>“He also said that because he and Kali are leaving tomorrow, he’s going to spend time with my parents before they go to bed,” Cas says almost shyly. “They’ll be occupied with doting and pouring love onto my brother and his wife so they likely won’t notice if I uh—if I come back a little later than I usually would,” he finishes, his fingers nervously picking at the nails of his opposite hand.</p><p>He meets Dean’s eyes in fleeting glances and there is no way to misinterpret his meaning when his gaze, though mostly directed to the ground, carries a heat he’s seen only a handful of times before.</p><p>Dean doesn’t say anything, he just slowly crawls towards Cas. Cas for his part turns more towards him and moves his arms, leaving a space for Dean to occupy once he’s reached Cas’ torso.</p><p>Their movements are a bit choppy and stilted, unsure of where to lay hands down upon the other, unaware of how far to take their intimacy. As he licks his way into Cas’ mouth, he feels Cas shift. Cas walks forwards on his knees, shuffling them both awkwardly downwards and neither thinks themselves too serious not to at least chuckle at the mishaps they share in their time together.</p><p>He lands as gently as he can on his back. Cas crawls over his lower body and holds himself up above Dean. Heat skirts down his body as Cas looms over him. Needing him closer, Dean brackets his legs up on either side of Cas’ body, caging him in as effectively as Cas has him caged.</p><p>Their lips meet again and Dean gets lost in the slide of lips and the heat of Cas’ mouth against his own. His hips rut up of their own accord, just barely brushing against Cas’ and the lack of relief is enough to pull a small groan from his mouth.</p><p>Cas lets out a short laugh at his frustration and drops his hips placatingly. The pressure has his back arching from the ground and as one hand reaches up to thread through Cas’ soft hair the other grips onto the blanket Cas had directed them to.</p><p>He runs his hand over the mess of hair on top of Cas' head, remembering how desperately he had wanted to the first time he saw him. Every part of Cas he had discovered has far exceeded his expectations in the most damaging ways. He could get lost in the softness of the strands passing over the worn pads of his fingers, sliding over the raised scars that litter both the back and palms of his hands. Dean would happily fall into the blue of his eyes and allow it to swallow him whole just for a chance of the encapsulating stare to be set on him again and again.</p><p>And this, having Cas like this—as he’d imagined for so long—to have him in the flesh pressed on top of him, taking the control Dean didn't know he needed him to take, out of instinct, is beyond comprehension.</p><p>Their hips roll together without thought, the fire sparks up and down his spine as he’s driven blind with pleasure. It’s equally too much and nowhere near enough for him, but there is nothing in the world that would get him to stop.</p><p>Cas’ hand brands him where it lays on his shoulder, a passing hold on its trek to the nape of his neck, but enough to center Dean’s focus on that one spot of his burning skin. Cas’ fingers fist into the short strands of hair at the back of his head, craning it as he wishes. He licks and sucks along the length of his throat, by no means hard enough to leave a mark, but Dean still feels like he’s been claimed as the flat expanse of Cas’ tongue runs along his vein and flicks behind his ear. He gasps as Cas takes the lobe of his ear between his teeth, shudders as he gently tugs on it and worries it between his lips.</p><p>His arousal curls tighter in his groin with every press of their hips and flick of Cas’ tongue on his skin, in his mouth, and as it whispers filthy things into his ears.</p><p>“You’re so needy for it Dean, you're just desperate for me to give you anything,” he says and Dean can’t help but groan, his name passing through those sinful lips as he inches him closer to his release is almost too much for him.</p><p>Cas breathes out an understanding laugh, “You like that don’t you <em>Dean</em>, shit I can’t wait to see you come for me, but not like this,” he says. Dean reaches down and pushes his own pants off of his hips desperate for actual contact with Cas’ length.</p><p>“Oh god, how I’d follow you to damnation,” Cas continues as he shimmies his own pants down just enough to free his cock. Dean spits into his hand but before he can wrap his hand around Cas’ length, Cas stops him. Before he can get too far into panic, Cas reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small tin. He pops it open and Dean sees that it’s filled with the same jelly that was put on his shoulder burn. Cas gathers some in his hand and transfers it onto Dean’s. Understanding, he rubs it around out of curiosity before he reaches down and strokes Cas’ cock in the tunnel of his fist.</p><p>“Cas, shit,” Dean rasps as Cas’ slick hand fists around his throbbing cock. “Ca—Cas, <em>mhh</em> Castiel,” he says, drawing the last syllable out on a moan as Cas latches onto the skin below his collarbone.</p><p>Precome spurts from the tip of Cas’ cockhead and a shudder rips through him. Like a domino effect, Dean’s own cock jumps and spurts milky fluid into the slick hot grip Cas has on him.</p><p>There's a scar near Dean’s mouth, it's small, a fallen piece of glass from a bottle cut through his skin when he’d fallen after a particularly rough punch who knows how long ago, insignificant in the canvas of scars on his body but Cas laves his tongue across it, lets his teeth scrape it and it feels like it's the singular most important part of him for a second. That is until Cas moves on and the feeling follows his lips as they lay worship down upon his heated skin.</p><p>Cas is all encompassing, his touch, his words, his arousal hot and thick against his own. Dean thinks that if he could, he would spend eternity wrapped up in him like this.</p><p>“Say it again,” Cas grinds out with a brutal thrust that makes Dean keen. “Say my name again, Dean.”</p><p>“Ungh Castiel, please,” Dean whines.</p><p>Cas moves them, sliding an arm around Dean’s waist and turning Dean around in his arms. He ends up on his forearms and knees and has a brief thought that Cas may try to take him before Cas’ hand reaches around and begins to stroke him again. At the same time, he feels Castiel’s other hand press below the swell of his ass. Instinctively he presses his thighs together. But Cas soothes him with the hand, running it along his flank while shushing him.</p><p>“Stop me if you don’t want this,” he says as he spreads some of the jelly between his thighs, the back of his hand knocks against his heavy balls with each pass and he’s being driven crazy with the punches of lust that hit him each time Cas makes contact.</p><p>Dean’s slowly making his way to ask Cas what ‘this’ is, too distracted with lust to think properly, but before he has a chance he feels the slick smooth head of Cas’ length press below his ass. His cockhead slips through the press of Dean’s legs and slides against his sack with each small thrust.</p><p>“Yes, god, do it.”</p><p>Dean gets flashes in his mind, Cas behind him thrusting into him instead of against him. The slap of their skin, though muted due to their clothing is wholly erotic and the feeling of Cas’ hot cock so close to where he desperately wants it nudging against his ever tightening sack while Cas fists his erection in his slick grasp has him careening to his release in no time. Cas shifts above him and his cock catches ever so slightly on the ring of his entrance. His breath is punched from his chest in a keening whine and he cants his hips back with each thrust against him. Growing in need with each roll.</p><p>“Good Dean, take it, take what you want,” Cas says above him and that’s all it takes to have him crashing over the edge far sooner than he wanted.</p><p>“Unhhh <em>Cas</em>,” slips through his lips as wave after wave of disorienting pleasure hits him. Cas pulls back and taps Dean’s side to get him to shift out of the way.</p><p>He grips himself and in a few sharp strokes, Cas reaches his peak too with a broken cry that sounds quite a lot like his name. It's intoxicating to watch Cas deliver pleasure to himself and he lays stunned as Cas’ spend mixes with his in the dirt of the barn floor and is hit with an intense desire to taste it again, to taste them together.</p><p>Cas knees his way over to Dean just as he settles back down onto the blanket. Dean rolls so Cas can fit himself in the empty space in front of him. Before they fully settle each takes a moment to cover themselves again.</p><p>Cas props his head up on his elbow, gazing down at Dean who knows he looks red with slight embarrassment, a reaction caused solely by his earlier thought. He reaches his hand out as though he’s going to lay it upon Dean’s face, perhaps thumb softly at the curve of his jaw or cheek, a gentle touch Dean never thought he’d be on the receiving end of, but he seems to change his mind at the last moment, instead resting it upon his arm before sliding it down to his waist and letting it fall from his body.</p><p>He tries to not let it bother him; of course, he fails almost immediately but he does his best to not let his disappointment show.</p><p>He should have known really, that Castiel wouldn’t care for him like that, a friend sure, a lay when he so desired of course, but someone to treat as a lover, to hold gently in the waning light of the small slowly dying sun held within the glass of the lantern, it was laughable to think Cas would want him like that.</p><p>It wasn't like him to dream at all about such things but he’d let himself get swept up in it all without even being aware that he was doing so. The first night when he watched as Cas’ eyes trailed fire across his body from across the room, that's the moment, Dean thinks, that the ground started to pull from underneath him.</p><p>Cas is still looking at him, eyes roaming his features. A crease forms between his brows and Dean longs to reach out to smooth it with the pad of his fingers, or perhaps lean in and smooth it with a press of his lips, but he holds back.</p><p>For the first time in minutes, he speaks, “I’ve been slacking on my writing, even worse with my reading.” It’s a poor attempt to distract himself but Cas latches onto it still.</p><p>“We can start back up tomorrow if you’d like,” he says with a look that expresses his opinion on Dean’s lack of work, and his opinion on why it happened.</p><p>“After supper? Or will you be able to get out of the house before then?”</p><p>“I should have no problem meeting you before supper but it’ll have to be in the afternoon, my pa has been on my case about me shirking my work,” Cas says with a peeved look.</p><p>“We don’t have to if it’s going to get you in trouble Cas, you don—” Dean begins.</p><p>“Dean I want to do this, I take far more enjoyment from teaching you than I do most anything else, remember I was the one who brought it up to begin with. I’ll do whatever work my father wants me to do and then I’ll join you at the tree or here with my slate and maybe a couple of books too.”</p><p>Dean nods his ascent and they fall into silence. He’s comfortable in it, it doesn't seem to stifle him or cloy to his skin and lungs as silence so often can. He wishes abstractly that he could see the sky.</p><p>A few minutes later he finds himself talking, in that way where your mouth just opens and words begin to fall from it, where no thought goes into any of it. What you are going to say is lost to even you.</p><p>“Sam and I used to do something like this, the lying here that is. When the weather was nice enough I’d take whatever we had to sleep on at the time and set it outside, we’d watch the sun fade away and he’d tell me the names of the colours that played across the sky as the hour got later and later. Then when it was dark enough and the stars came out, we would imagine them, what they were like, if we could touch them how would they feel, just like with clouds. Sam always said they were God’s angels looking down on us to make sure we were doing okay. I just saw the space, each one so small, so insignificant in the sky but together they made this picture that we could play within for hours. Sometimes we would just lay there in the quiet, Sammy always fell asleep long before I did, the kid could sleep just about anywhere,” he huffs a small laugh at the same time he realizes there's moisture in his eyes. He doesn’t move to get rid of it.</p><p>“I played along for his sake, told him that if it was angels that meant our mama was up there watching us. I never said anything about our father and Sammy, he never asked. He got a bit too old for it eventually, but I kept at it. I didn’t stay until sleep took me, but I’d sit and look, and it always struck me how all of us here, we were just pinpricks to the ground we walked upon, to the stars we stared at. How at some point no one would remember any of us. Well, no one would remember me, people like you and Sam would get remembered, buildings and stories and books you helped make keeping you here.” It hurts but he doesn’t let on to it.</p><p>“During the days Sam would go off to school, and I’d go to whatever place was kind enough to hire me, and I’d think that if Sam got remembered because I didn’t, then that would be just fine. And then he’d come home, or I suppose he’d come back, and tell me these stories of his day, and I’d sit and laugh and think that when he was happy, he was brighter than any star in the sky. I always thought that I had it rough in life, but Sam had it so much worse and never let it show, not for a second, even though he had every reason to.” Cas is looking at him again and his heart stutters when his arm reaches out and his warm palm rests along the curve of his face.</p><p>“Of course, then he would go and find rifles and pistols and all manner of things in the bushes and nearly kill me with the fear of it all, laughing the whole time, mind you.” He’s gripping Cas’ shirt. When did he start doing that? “I’m half convinced he planted some of them just to rile me up, which then begs the question of where he found them in the first place. Now he’s off being someone our mama would have been proud of, he’s probably found a nice woman, a pretty thing with a brain to her. He always joked about it, marriage and all that, not unlike you, but I’ve come to think it was for my benefit. He was such a good kid, but I can’t help but think that he could have been greater if we hadn’t ended up like we did.”</p><p>The hand on his cheek lifts his neck up until he’s facing Castiel full on. He panics instantly, realizing just how much he’d admitted, how many secrets and weaknesses he just let Cas know, Cas who had not ten minutes ago made it clear through action—or rather inaction—that he wasn’t in this for what might someday become love. And here’s Dean telling him things no one else knows. He’s desperately trying to find a way to play it all off, his mind whirling, when Cas leans in and presses a gentle but grounding kiss to his parted lips. His head tilts of its own volition and their lips slot together perfectly. Neither of them deepen the kiss; Dean because he’s still reeling from his confessions, and Cas, so as to not overwhelm Dean.</p><p>When they part Castiel doesn’t remove his hand from the side of Dean's face, instead he shifts it down to his neck, fingers splayed on either side of his ear ensuring that Dean’s attention is on him.</p><p>“When we were children, after Gadreel died, Gabriel became a kind of substitute parent for me while my parents dealt with the loss. He’d set up games for me to occupy myself with when their voices started getting louder, angrier, sadder. And it wasn’t just my parents, my older siblings reacted much the same way, only Gabriel—and I suppose Anael as well, but she was a mere two years old—acted the same around me. We used to go up into the tree, sit there and watch the birds swoop in if we sat still enough. My favourite was watching the bees play in the flowers but Gabriel was overly worried I would end up stung by one of them so he never let me watch for long.</p><p>“I don’t blame my parents, I may carry something of the kind for my siblings, but I learned not long after his death that I was a constant reminder that he wasn’t there anymore, that each time my parents looked at me they saw him. Gabriel did his best with me, it was a long time ago now, but I’ll never forget just how far he went. Brothers and sisters are supposed to be your playmates, but Gabriel was hell-bent on doing more than that. He moved into my room and read me the stories that I hadn’t yet been able to. By the time my parents made their way out of their grief, I was doing much better on my own. I still needed their support though, sometimes I got it and other times it was lacking, but Gabriel never wavered.” Cas stops and takes a shuddering breath in and releases it in a steady stream as though he’s letting something go. “And in case you aren’t following, you are the Gabriel in Sam’s story, Dean, but you played an even grander role because you had to play parent to him as well. Without you or your steadfast protection, Sam wouldn’t at all be the person he is now. You said he’s a good kid, that’s because you raised him yourself,” Cas says, staring so intensely into his eyes that Dean wants to look away so as not to crumble beneath the weight of it. But Castiel doesn’t let him.</p><p>“I wouldn’t be where I am now without Gabriel. Even if he thinks he didn't do a good enough job, he still did it, <em>you</em> still did it.” Cas shifts, dropping his shoulder with a low groan and Dean can hear the grinding of the joint put under pressure from his leaning on it. He turns his head to look at Dean and Dean lays his head down on his own arm levelling his stare with Cas’.</p><p>“Tell me a good memory,” he requests, a shine of unshed tears just barely visible in his fathomless blue eyes.</p><p>Dean’s quiet as he tries to pick one that doesn’t immediately turn sour in his mind, one that stays happy and free of pain.</p><p>“When Sam was about ten, I think, I would have been fourteen, I managed to convince an older woman to allow us use of her shed,” he says with a quick upturn on the corners of his mouth. “I worked ‘round her property doing odds and ends so she would let us stay, we got to have the shed for a few months before she sadly passed on, in her sleep, the way you're supposed to go. But for those months where we had that space it felt like we had a home. Sam would bring home his school projects and I’d string them up on the walls. The woman—Mrs. Mosley—she was a real mothering type when she wanted to be and always gave us our food for free, I didn’t ever have to worry about one or both of us going hungry. It was the first real time Sam ever had a home and not just a place to sleep. I’ll never forget the joy on his face when he realized he could tell his schoolmates an address to find him at.”</p><p>“What about one that’s about <em>you</em>, Dean?”</p><p>He’s quiet again as he thinks, and he starts to feel agitated the longer it takes. Minutes go by before he can settle on something that’s good.</p><p>“The first time I worked with a horse, her name was Temperance, thoroughbred, calm and gentile. I was working for a gin mill that also served as an inn at the time and her owner had dropped her off while he went about his business, well dropped her and his three other horses off with us. I remember the look she gave me, kind of like she could see all that was in my past and all that was in my future but she made no judgment on any of it. The man ended up staying in town for some time and he let me take her out once, not that I ever understood why he trusted me with a beast like her. But riding her even for that short while was like nothing I’d known before. Made me a sucker for animals, horses more than any other. They’re a lot easier to understand than us folks, kinder too, fewer hidden agendas and ulterior motives,” he says distractedly, lost in the memory.</p><p>After a moment he looks up at Cas and sees that his eyes have been directed to the fallen open collar of his shirt, looking down he spots a faint red mark about a fingers width down from his collarbone, his breath catches when Castiel reaches out to press his thumb against it.</p><p>“C’mon Cas,” he stutters out, glad that he's made no comment on the memory. “Your turn, what's your happiest memory?”</p><p>Cas looks back up at him, shifting ever so slightly but doesn't move his finger save to rest his palm against Dean’s chest so very close to his widely beating heart.</p><p>“I’m not sure if it’s my happiest, but uh, it’s kind of a two in one memory even though the two things happened a few weeks apart. When Alife, my youngest brother, was born I was about fourteen or so, I had already helped so much with Anna, Duma and Uriel when they came home with my parents from the orphanage. I tried to help with Alfie whenever I could, I was the one that was holding his hands the day he started walking, a few weeks later he had learned my name, though it resembled ‘Cas-e-lel’ more than Castiel, and he came waddling over saying it as loud as anything. My younger siblings hardly see me as a brother because of how great our age disparities are, and I don’t know if that makes them more affectionate or what but just about everything about them makes me happy.”</p><p>Dean lifts Cas’ arm and pulls his palm up to his mouth, laying gentle warm kisses into the heel of his hand and the palm, hating how it makes something flutter in his chest, he shouldn't let himself indulge in any way, it’ll only make the sting worse when Cas sends him on his way, or when he eventually must leave.</p><p>When Castiel doesn’t continue, Dean shoots him a look that conveys his desire for a memory of Cas’ that's solely about him.</p><p>Understanding, Cas thinks for a moment. “I was nine I think, we were in town and my parents had entered some store or another but I didn’t follow them in, content to wander. I trekked around and eventually found my way to an alley, buildings on either side of me, a verifiable maze, really, and I came upon a couple in an open doorway. Standing as if at a moment's notice they might need to break apart and flee. When I got closer, I understood a bit more. They were both men, and though my mind may forget, they couldn’t have been any older than I am now. They were kissing as any man and woman would. It was the first time I understood that I wasn’t the only one who felt the way I felt, the way I feel. That there were others, at the very least there were the two in front of me. They didn’t ever see me. I just walked back to the street and waited for my family to return, but something within me settled at the sight of them.” Cas is looking off above his shoulder when he finishes, lost in the memory.</p><p>Dean pulls him back from his thoughts with another kiss, this time to the soft skin of Cas’ inner wrist.</p><p>“You’re not alone,” he says quietly.</p><p>“Neither are you.” Is all Cas says back. “You’ve never been alone.”</p><p>Dean lays back closing his eyes at the weight Cas’ words carry. He’s never heard those words spoken to him, and until now he doesn’t think he’s had cause to believe them. But with Cas’ hand cupping his cheek and the air around them soft and quiet maybe he starts to believe it.</p><p>They keep to lighter subjects after that, the heaviness of their emotional stories not something either can keep up with for long.</p><p>Just about anything that is looked upon fondly is fair game to be shared, the first time Cas was stung by a bee, much to Gabriel’s dismay, the first time Dean played a game for fun and not for keeps, the first time they each went swimming, the woes of being the older sibling. Dean laughs for real over and over again. Anecdotes slip from Cas’ tongue freely and he counters them as best he can, offering up stories of people he’s encountered to bridge the gaps that, even after the confessions, are still so large between them.</p><p>He worries they may be insurmountable, the pain he’s lived through too much to ever come close to matching Cas story for story. But Cas doesn’t seem to mind.</p><p>They haven't moved from beside each other, their faces only breaths apart. It’s the first time Dean can ever remember being so off guard around someone. It scares him as much as it soothes him and he wishes not for the first time that none of this was so complicated. He wishes that he’d had a life growing up that didn’t set people's teeth on edge or scare them. That he didn't want this so much, with Cas or any other man he has ever, or will ever meet. With women, his only obstacle had been his disappointing life, he could ask for permission to court her and he would be turned down only for the scars on his body or the lack of money to his, then lack of, name. But he could never have asked for the same about a man, it spelled ruin for them both if he was to be so brash and bold about it.</p><p>The gentleness of this gets to him, it gets under his skin as his mind fights itself. He wants this so badly, to be tangled up with Cas as the world moves slowly around them. But he’s antsy, he doesn’t get to have this kind of thing in life. He doesn't get to let his guard down without repercussions, he doesn't get to have this tender attention shown to him.</p><p>Cas with his caring eyes and his confusing display of affection makes him itch in a way far below his skin. In the same moments he abandons the touch of Dean’s face, he holds him close. In the same moments, Dean thinks that lust drives Cas to him, he’s shown so much more that could convince him otherwise. He wishes Cas would pick one or the other, attachment or disregard so that Dean can prepare himself for it. He’s not sure which one he wants Cas to choose.</p><p>“I think I have to go,” Cas says quietly, almost as if he didn’t want Dean to hear so that he wouldn’t actually have to leave. “Kali might kill Gabriel if he makes her stay up too late so that I can be out here.” Neither move right away, their bubble too all encompassing to shatter so carelessly.</p><p>Dean nods ever so slightly, before he lifts his head up to rest on his hand, his arm bent at the elbow. “Go save your brother, though I can’t say I’d blame her for it if you don’t make it in time.”</p><p>“Nor can I,” Cas laughs, he’s moving slowly, drawn in by the calm haze they’ve made for themselves or maybe because he doesn't want to leave.</p><p>Dean has to stop himself from projecting his feelings and wishes onto Cas, it’s not fair to either of them.</p><p>“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks even though it's not actually a question so much as a continued reassurance.</p><p>“First thing,” he says, shuffling to stand, the space in front of him frigid with his absence. “I’ll bring out your breakfast, though I won't be able to eat with you, unfortunately.”</p><p>No sooner than he stands does Cas trip over his foot which has tangled itself in Dean’s blanket. A peel of laughter bursts from Dean’s chest, the force of it sending his head craning backwards. Cas is staring down at him with a look of annoyance but the mirth in his own eyes betrays him. Giving in, Cas slaps his palms against the outside of his thighs as a slightly gummy smile breaks out across his face.</p><p>“And you say <em>I’m</em> accident prone,” Dean says as he stands. “Need I remind you that I didn’t ever trip over my own two feet.”</p><p>“No, you just pissed off a horse that's more than eight times your weight,” Cas responds in mock scathe, as he checks over himself.</p><p>“Hey, you were the one telling me I should try to make friends,” he says teasingly, stepping up to him again.</p><p>“No, I said you needed to let people be your friend, I did not at all say that you should try to do so yourself. Like me and Ibby, you and making friends isn't pretty.”</p><p>A wide and uninhibited smile stretches his lips at Cas’ remembrance of his first attempt to tease him from weeks ago. Feeling pleasantly called out he reaches up to mess up Cas’ attempts to tamp down his hair, but once his fingers splay in it, he finds himself instead helping Cas calm it down simply because it feels so nice to run his fingers through it.</p><p>“Try not to trip on your walk back to your house,” he says quietly, he chuckles at the eye roll he gets in return from Cas, “I don't think your family would care much for another unwell child.” He means for it to be a joke, but it falls short of its mark slightly.</p><p>“I’ll try to keep both feet where they should be, and I'll take special care to ensure that there are no malevolent blankets strewn about the thirty or so yards between the two doors,” Castiel responds sarcastically.</p><p>“That’s all I ask,” he replies. Cas leans in and presses a chaste kiss to his lips, and then another before he pulls back reluctantly.</p><p>“Goodnight Dean,” Cas calls quietly as he backs his way to the closed barn door. They both huff a laugh—though Dean does so far more forcefully—when Cas’ back ends up against the wood. He shakes his head as he opens the door before stepping into the well of the door.</p><p>“Goodnight Cas.”</p>
<hr/><p>They carry on through the week similarly; Gabriel leaves and everything calms down again on the farm. Cas spends much of his day inside with his father and having finally given him a name to use for their records they compile the money Dean had made in his five weeks on the farm. While Charles had been right in saying it would be reasonably small, it was still more than Dean had been anticipating. He has an inkling that Cas might have something to do with that.</p><p>They return to their lessons, except now when Dean excels, Cas rewards him in small ways, a gentle brush against his ankle, a hand splayed against his hip once they both stand, or a particularly filthy kiss when the suns gone down and they have a few minutes to spend together without any possible prying eyes.</p><p>They've made so much progress on Ringer that even Dean is shocked, it's only been about four weeks now that they’ve been working with him. Most days it’s Dean by himself, though both Cas and Charles have stopped in, even Gabriel on his last day took a peek at the animal to see how he was doing, but he and Ringer spend the most time together.</p><p>He’s quietly proud of the progress he’s made, never one to boast about his achievements, but he can tell that Charles is impressed. It makes something sour churn in his chest but he can’t help but be proud that he’s proving Charles’ assumptions about him wrong.</p><p>Dean has always been one to ensure proper care of what few possessions he owns; they often needed to last far longer than intended and constant upkeep was the only way he knew how to ensure that. So one afternoon between his chores and his other responsibilities he takes the time to check his pistol, making sure that it’s as clean and undamaged as it had been the morning he left town. He’d put it off longer than he planned to but his time with the Novak’s had been so interesting and distracting and all around busy that he’d let it slide.</p><p>He’s checking the barrel, the cylinder clicked out, his few bullets in a small pile next to him, when Cas walks in.</p><p>“Dean, is that a gun?”</p><p>“Shit, uh ya, it’s my pistol…” Dean doesn’t exactly know what else to say, most people either piss themselves at the sight of a gun or they pay it no mind and he’s not sure which route Cas will take. To save Cas from possibly freaking out too much Dean starts to reassemble the gun.</p><p>“Why do you have a gun?” Cas asks, making his way into the barn, albeit slowly, as though he’s afraid the gun will go rabid as a dog might and hurt him.</p><p>“Cas, not for nothing but how exactly did you think I made sure I stayed as safe as I could my whole life?” he asks while putting his gun back into his pack.</p><p>“I don’t know really, I never thought of it,” Cas says. He looks a bit unsteady though not from fear. Dean can see his mind whirling, creating scenario after scenario in which Dean would have had to have used the pistol.</p><p>“Cas, I understand you may have some questions but I need you to think about whether or not you actually want the answers to them,” Dean cautions. He’s all too aware how conversations like these go, and the last thing he wants is to scare Cas away.</p><p>“When was the last time you used it?” Cas asks as he crouches near Dean, eyes steadfastly trained on his bag as though he can see the gun through the material.</p><p>“Close to a year ago I think, it’s mostly for show, there's a higher chance people won’t try to mess with you when you have one of these with you,” Dean says honestly. He’d almost had cause to use it in the week leading up to his abrupt departure from where he used to be, but lucky for him it never came to that.</p><p>“Are you any good of a shot?”</p><p>“I’m decent, I guess. I can hit a target from twenty yards.” He’s being modest, he knows it but Cas doesn’t have any frame of reference for marksmanship and he’s never been one to boast when not needed. His skills have won him a few bets and a few disputes in his history but Cas doesn’t need to know that.</p><p>“Would you ever show me how to use it?”</p><p>Dean gapes at that, “Are you serious?” When Cas simply nods, he continues, “Uh ya I guess I could show you how, but I don’t see how you’ll be able to learn to fire it on the farm, makes a lot of noise you understand.”</p><p>“What kind of pistol is it?” Cas is full of questions but he’s yet to ask the one most people want to know above anything. Cas smiles with his last answer and he can’t for the life of him figure out why he would want to be shown how to use a gun.</p><p>“I found it a while back, but it’s a Smith &amp; Wesson, that’s all I really know.”</p><p>“Hmm,” he says with a raised eyebrow and an ‘oh well’ expression. “It’d probably be best not to let my pa see it.” And just like that the conversation seems finished.</p><p>Dean’s a little unsettled that Cas never asked the hardest question to answer, but he’s glad too. If Cas wishes to stay ignorant, that's his choice. He’s not about to jeopardize any part of what he and Cas have by telling him.</p><p>They’re silent a moment, just looking at each other as they’ve taken to doing far more openly since they set things straight. Cas visibly brightens a moment later, remembering why he came to the barn in the first place.</p><p>“My ma and pa are heading into town the day after tomorrow for some business. Not exactly sure what it’s all about,” Cas blows out a breath, “but because of that, my presence will be needed in the house more.” Dean tries not to let his disappointment show. “However, after the kids have gone to bed, and with no parents to wonder why I'm out so late, I figured I could make my absence up to you somehow.”</p><p>“Oh really,” Dean says cheekily. “And how exactly could you do that?”</p><p>“I have some ideas, but sharing them would take away half the fun,” Cas says as he leans in, a whisper’s breath away from Dean’s lips. “You’ll just have to wait and see.” He holds his stance for another moment, the tension around them hums against his skin, just as he’s about to lean in to close the minuscule distance Cas pulls back with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “I’ll see you later, maybe I’ll bring the flask,” he says with a teasing hilt to his voice.</p><p>Dean would quip back but he’s too in shock at how much their non-kiss affected him. Though he does manage to get an eye roll out in response to Cas’ wink before he’s gone, scoffing to himself at the notion that they still need the flask as cover for their intentions.</p><p>The entire conversation leaves something odd in his chest, same as it had the night Cas tripped over his blanket. But he refuses to examine it.</p><p>Being around Cas is easy, they jibe and banter and Dean doesn't have to bite his tongue to avoid offending by mistake because Cas is familiar with his sense of humour.</p><p>He’d been nervous to test his luck the first day they teased each other, knowing how easy it was for someone to take it the wrong way, but even then Castiel had been open to it, welcomed it almost.</p><p>Cas had evidently done exactly what he had planned to do, he’d become Dean’s friend, an honest to god friend. And Dean had to go and confuse it all for something more.</p><p>Day after day the confusion hits harder. Conflating the rituals of friendship—not that he knew those in any proper way—with the rituals of courting—again with what little he knows of them—all while they messed around under the cover of night. It all leaves him feeling lost.</p><p>He’s quiet with Cas that night, not reserved but quiet, they talk and play around and Dean finds himself weighed down by Cas in his lap a few times. He says it’s a pre-emptive repayment for the next few days when he’s busy making sure his siblings do as they should. He hates that there's a part of him that can’t ignore that he might just be a warm and willing body for Cas, he hates that he sometimes believes it over anything.</p><p>He learns just how royally screwed he is while Cas’ parents are out to town. While he works through the much longer list of chores, now that he has healed up and Hannah is home his work has doubled if not tripled, he thinks of Cas’ easy smiles and the soft ways his eyes fold when they lay next to each other. It makes something in his chest squeeze but he still refuses to look too deeply into it.</p><p>A few hours before supper he hears the clatter of the door, there’s a flutter in his chest and a curl of anticipation in his stomach as he turns. He stops though, because, yes Cas has come outside, but with him is a small hoard of children, Hannah’s amongst the group, holding the hand of another young girl, but he doesn’t know any of the other children. A young woman, who must be Cas’ eldest younger sister, is corralling the children along with him.</p><p>He sets down the bail of hay he’s moving into the livestock barn and sends a wave across the distance. Cas’ answering smile is soft but it lights up his face all the same.</p><p>The pack of them head around to the back of the house using the shade from the trees to stave off some of the heat of the day. He wants to go over to see Cas but knows better than to do so, the only sibling who knows about them is Gabriel and it’s not his call if Cas wants there to be an introduction.</p><p>The youngest of the bunch run around playing tag and jacks, Cas lifts one of the young boys up to hang off a low tree branch with a wide smile on his face.</p><p>Dean sets back to work, not wanting to be caught staring at the group. As he makes his way back from the barn the sounds of laughter waft through the air and he's reminded of Sam, playing with his friends in the streets carefree and happy.</p><p>“Uriel! I said no climbing past the clothesline!” Dean hears Cas call. He watches as the boy Cas lifted into the tree makes his way down from where he’d climbed to—several feet higher than Dean would have dared at a similar age. When his feet touch the ground a young girl runs up to him and pulls him into a game of jacks so quickly it gives Dean whiplash.</p><p>Cas ends up with a child wrapped around his waist, a young boy, possibly the youngest of all of them and he smiles. With the way Cas has talked about his siblings before, he knows how much they mean to him, but watching it is so different from hearing about it.</p><p>He’s in the paddock when Cas comes to see him. Some kids are still playing, others are sitting with a book or a slate instead. The young woman seems to have no issue keeping a handle on the children, still full of energy and chasing them sporadically as they squeal.</p><p>“Hello Dean,” Cas says as he walks through the large open door of the stable.</p><p>“You sure it's fair to your sister to leave all the young ones in her charge?” he says with a nod over to where the group is.</p><p>“Anael is fine now that I’ve made the older kids get back to work. With Hannah having been sick we’ve all just been inside too much, I figured that some fresh air and some time to run around would be good for them.”</p><p>“Wait, you mean to tell me you didn’t orchestrate the entire venture just so you could see me?” Dean says in mock offence. He may be swimming in a river of conflict within himself but he’s a master at pretending that all is well.</p><p>“You’re impossible Dean Winchester, impossible.” They’re quiet as Cas walks up to Ringer’s flank. Weeks ago that action would have resulted in serious panicking on his part but he’s such a quick study when the right hands are doing the teaching that now he doesn’t even react.</p><p>“You’re good with them, they listen to you. Took me forever to make sure Sammy would listen to me like that.”</p><p>“I’ve had a lot of practice, years of it before Alfie was born. It helps when the younger kids see the older kids doing as I say, though truthfully, I don’t like the role I often have to take with them. I want to be their brother, not a third parent.”</p><p>“I don't think they see you as a parent Cas, there's always a difference in a relationship between siblings even if one has a hand in taking care of or raising the other,” he says. “They’ll always see you differently.”</p><p>“I know it's logical that they would but there are times when one of the younger ones will come to me for help instead of either of my parents and there's always this part of me that thinks that I’m needed more than a typical older brother is needed.”</p><p>“I doubt you’re alone in the sentiment if it helps to know.”</p><p>“It does I think, thank you.”</p><p>“Besides, even they can tell that while you are so <em>so</em> much older than they are, you’re still younger than your parents, that would help remind them that you are their brother.”</p><p>“Hey,” Cas says with mock indignancy. “Who are you calling old, you’ve got to be around my same age, maybe even older than I am!”</p><p>“Hmm they don’t know that, right now you’re the most ancient thing on this farm.”</p><p>Forgoing a response to his playful jibes, Cas walks around Ringer to stand by him. He crowds in closer and shifts so he’s now standing behind Dean instead of beside. Their bodies are flush from chest to a few inches past their waists and the feeling has Dean clenching his fists to stop him from reacting in any obvious way. Warmth floods through him and settles at the base of his spine as the air crackles with Cas being so close.</p><p>Instead, he arches his spine slightly and sends his lower half back towards Cas. A low growl tells him he hit his mark but he doesn’t react, instead he acts as though he’s focusing all his attention on Ringer.</p><p>A warm palm grips onto his hip, possibly in warning, possibly as a promise for later.</p><p>Before they can get into a more incriminating position, a little voice calls out for Cas.</p><p>Looking towards the source of the voice, Dean sees a young girl making her way over to the horse pen. Cas sighs minutely before he walks over to the fence line.</p><p>“Inias you were supposed to stay with Anael, you know that.”</p><p>“I know and I’m sorry but—oh hi Mister!” the girl calls out as she notices Dean.</p><p>Dean isn’t sure if he should do anything more than wave so he doesn’t. He leads Ringer back to the stables but before he makes it inside Inias calls out to him again.</p><p>“Why do you have so many cuts on you?” she asks referring to his scars, which stand out against his tanned skin. He hadn’t even realized his sleeves were up, each day he’s grown more comfortable with them, mostly thanks to Cas and his constant and unwavering acceptance of the marks on his body, no matter if what caused them was his fault or not.</p><p>“<em>Inias</em>,” Cas says immediately, chastising his sister for her lack of tact.</p><p>“It’s okay,” he says to Cas holding a hand out to stop him. “I got them fighting a dragon,” Dean then says to the girl.</p><p>“No way!” she says excitedly before her face falls. “Castiel says there's no such thing as dragons.”</p><p>“Hmm, well if that’s the case I got them fighting a bear, no a fish, wait wait, a coyote in the woods. Yeah, that last one for sure.”</p><p>Inias is giggling before he’s finished and it’s enough for her apparently because she leaves when Cas says she should go back to the rest of the kids, completely forgetting why she had sought Cas out in the first place.</p><p>“Dean, I’m really sorry about that.”</p><p>“Don't worry about it Cas, kids are easy to lie to about this kind of thing, makes it easy to actually tell them, in the end, all they want is a story.”</p><p>“Still, she shouldn't have asked, she’s old enough to know better, though she did seem to enjoy your response. You’re quite charming.”</p><p>Dean blushes as he says, “I didn't have the benefit of other kids around all the time while Sam was growing up, so I had to be the one that held his attention, you get good at storytelling when it’s all you do.”</p><p>Cas walks with him as he takes Ringer inside.</p><p>“Have you thought of seeing Sam again?”</p><p>Dean stills, “I mean he’s my brother and I miss him but I don’t want to cause any problems for him.”</p><p>“I hardly see how reuniting with your brother would cause problems, but if you do decide you would like to re-establish contact, you could always send him a letter instead.”</p><p>“That'd give him a hell of a shock, Cas.”</p><p>“What better way to let your brother know that you’ve been learning than to show him directly,” he asks sincerely.</p><p>“I’ll think about it. You should get back to your family before your sister loses her patience. I’ll see you at supper, don’t think you don’t still owe me just because you came to say hi.”</p><p>“If you wanted, you could come say hello, a lot of them have been curious from day one and have wanted to talk to you, even if it's just to say hi.”</p><p>Dean works it over in his mind, a few minutes with the children certainly wouldn’t hurt unless they then went about telling their parents but Dean knows Cas would make sure that this was kept between the lot of them.</p><p>There's a hopeful look in Cas’ eyes and it cracks through the last bit of trepidation within him.</p><p>“Okay, but not for long I still have a fair bit of work to get through.”</p><p>When they make it to the group several of the kids come up to him right away. He crouches down, knowing that it makes it less scary for the kids when meeting a new adult.</p><p>“Hello there, I hear you’ve all been itching to see me up close,” Dean says as Hannah and a few other children sit down around him. Two of the kids stay wrapped at Anael’s waist but he can see that she’s at least intrigued in the upcoming proceedings.</p><p>“Mister,” Inias pipes up, “can you tell us the story about the coyote?”</p><p>“Inias no, he’s not going to talk about that,” Cas steps in before Dean can think of the best lie about how it happened.</p><p>“Di—did you know, I can't ride horses,” a boy, Uriel he thinks, says next, his face and voice so serious for a child. Dean can’t help but smile, he’d forgotten how kids just switch topics without a connection between them.</p><p>“I didn’t know that, thank you for telling me. You know when I was about your age, I didn’t know how to ride horses either. Someday you’ll be able to, maybe even better than I can,” Dean says conspiratorially. He looks up at Cas and sees the soft awed look on his face as he continues to interact with his siblings.</p><p>They all talk for a few more minutes, each kid jumping in with a question for Dean—that often gets fielded by Cas (for which he’s grateful) or gets forgotten about when another child asks or says something else. Anael and the smaller children join in, though they stay quiet, and soon Dean has a small half-circle of interested parties in front of him.</p><p>The dopey look never leaves Cas’ face for more than a second—dropping only to step in with a directive of some kind—and Dean feels his cheeks heat more each time he catches Cas training his gaze on him.</p><p>Eventually, Cas says that Dean should get back to work—the ideal way to get kids to stop their sharing—and says that he’s going to walk back with Dean to talk to him about the rest of the day's work. He smiles at the obvious cover knowing there's no way for anyone else to pick up on it.</p><p>There's something extremely fond in Castiel’s gaze when their eyes meet on the walk back, and even more fond when they’re in the stable away from the eyes of his family. He keeps reminding Cas that he has to go back or one of his siblings may come running over to share with Dean the fact that they can ‘add three and four together no problem’ but Cas seems intent on keeping them pressed up against the wall, so close that a shallow breath couldn’t be taken without their chests touching. It might take Cas another ten minutes before he’s leaving the stables but no children coming running up wanting to share anything thankfully.</p><p>Dean watches as Cas retreats to the shade with his family and something grips his heart and lungs, his whole chest feels a bit tight and without his permission, a smile spreads across his face. Just as he’s dealing with what all that can possibly mean, Cas makes it back to the group and three children hurl themselves at him. He grabs one and spins them around as a dazzling smile covers his whole face, the kind that even from a distance Dean knows shows his gums and scrunches up his nose.</p><p>In a sudden and terrifying moment of clarity, Dean realizes that he would do anything to see that smile on Cas’ face again and again. He’s so far beyond screwed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes Dean's gun being a Smith &amp; Wesson is entirely because of 4x17 <em>It's a Terrible Life</em>, clearly I'm not above a meta (ish) reference.</p><p>I really enjoyed writing this softer chapter, even if it had some angst sprinkled throughout it.</p><p>If you haven't picked up on it these two are into some mild kinks, I didn't feel the need to tag each of them but as a heads up there are a couple mentions of choking, but no breathplay, in the rest of the fic. That's about as extreme as it gets (even still it's more about the implication of the action than the action itself, giving yourself over to the other person, being at their mercy etc. etc.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Time Comes for Decisions to be Made</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Charles and Rebecca—which Dean finally learns is Cas’ mother's name, having not felt it his place to ask before—return, Dean gets the sense that their trip into town was successful. Charles mentions to him that an interested party will be stopping in at the farm to look at Ringer in the upcoming days. He’s worried about his progress now that a buyer is interested but with the short notice there isn’t much Dean can do to get Ringer into better shape.</p><p>Instead, he makes sure that both he and the horse are looking as best as they can so as to not embarrass Charles in front of whoever will be inquiring about the training Ringer’s undergone at Dean’s hand, wanting to know where he is in his progress and such. He’s not inexperienced in this regard, having worked for stock shows before. Look your best, smile, answer any and all questions, but do not speak outside of that. He was the horse’s handler and more than anything, wants to solidify this sale for Charles in order to further prove himself and his competency to the man.</p><p>He checks and cleans Ringer’s shoes and brushes his coat and mane. He also cleans himself up best he can, gets the dirt from under his nails, the mud from his calves, gives Cas his non-blood stained clothes for washing, and takes extra care in his shaving though he’s rarely let his scruff grow out while on the farm. Finally, he spends some time cleaning and straightening the stables and barns. The last thing he wants is for a lack of effort on his part to tank the sale.</p><p>All his work takes him the better part of the days between their return and the arrival of the interested party. So much so that he’s hardly had time for his proper chores. Much to his father's likely upset, Cas has again put off his work with Charles to aid Dean in completing what he’s not able to do on his own.</p><p>He doesn't know if it's his imagination or just the fact that he’s looking at Cas more often, but nearly every time his eyes seek Cas out, Cas is looking at him. Warmth blooms in his chest as a flush takes to his cheeks each time their eyes lock. He makes himself busy to keep his mind off of it, not having the time, energy, or bravery to think on it.</p><p>The morning of the sale breaks calmly, the rising sun pays no mind to the frayed nerves of the farm's occupants. It seems that even the children are aware of today's importance, the house stands quiet where it normally would bolster the noise of the young ones, excited to begin another day.</p><p>Dean knows that he still has a few hours before their guest’s expected arrival, same as when Cas’ older siblings came, the potential buyer had stayed in town the previous night and will ride in at a more reasonable time, so he sets about his normal chores before going to the stables to see Ringer.</p><p>“Hey there boy,” he greets gently. “We’ve got ourselves a big day today, so I need you to keep your attitude in check, no fighting with me or any of that, I know you ain’t too fond of riding just yet but they might not even want you for that so you don’t have to worry about that now.”</p><p>He seems to be reassuring himself as much as the horse, but it’s working either way.</p><p>He pets his hand down Ringer’s shoulder, remembering how this same action resulted once with him on his back, leg cut and arm screaming with every movement. He again feels intensely proud of Ringer’s progress and quite proud of his own work, not that he would let anyone know. Boasting in jest is more his style.</p><p>“Dean?” he hears Cas call from outside the stables.</p><p>“Ya. I’m in here.”</p><p>Cas comes in with an odd smile on his face, as though he finds something both amusing and disconcerting.</p><p>“What has you looking like that?” Dean asks as he circles around Ringer, triple checking that he’s in the best shape he can be.</p><p>“Last time we did that I found you lying on the floor in a puddle of blood with a ruined shoulder,” Cas says with that same odd look.</p><p>“Ah but how different this time is Cas, look Ringer isn’t attempting to break any bones or anything! It’s a miracle,” he laughs. He gets a small smile in return.</p><p>“Are you nervous?” Cas asks after a moment.</p><p>“Can’t see a reason not to be, this seems to be a pretty big day for your pa.”</p><p>Dean looks up to see Cas nod, the inside of his lower lips is pulled between his teeth and he worries it as he mirrors Dean’s position on Ringers' left side.</p><p>“I’m not sure why my pa is treating this day so importantly, it’s not as though this is the first horse sale we’ve had, and no offence to him but Ringer isn’t the most impressive horse we’ve had, he’s not the least impressive either but my pa is acting as though this sale is the most crucial deal yet.”</p><p>“We’ll figure it out soon enough,” Dean says before leaning to look into Ringers' eyes. “Won’t we boy?”</p><p>“You’ve done an incredible job with him Dean,” Cas says as Dean stands again, catching his eyes. Dean can see the sincerity in his face.</p><p>He finds himself flushed before he has a chance to stop it, “I can’t take all the credit, you and your pa helped, it wasn't just me.”</p><p>“It was mostly you Dean, which I wasn’t too pleased with at the start, all things considered,” Cas says pointedly.</p><p>“It was my own fault you know; he didn’t do it maliciously. Besides you were there near constantly in the first week or so of his training,” Dean reminds him.</p><p>“That doesn’t mean you couldn't have still gotten injured again.” Cas comes to stand beside him, he doesn't try to stop the mild shiver that makes its way down his spine with Cas so close.</p><p>“Ahh but I didn't,” he says once his skin settles into a slight hum.</p><p>Cas gives him a look that no one could misinterpret as anything but him being wholly unamused with his logic on the subject.</p><p>“Either way, you still managed to take a horse that we’d been trying to break in, and finally do so.”</p><p>“Cas you aren’t giving yourself enough credit,” Dean says, ducking his eyes under the stare Cas has trained on him.</p><p>“And you still won’t allow me to give you the credit you are due, this was no small feat, Dean.”</p><p>“Will we stop talking about it if I accept the compliment?”</p><p>Cas rolls his eyes with a smile. “Certainly.”</p><p>Though Dean's assumption was that saying that would have been enough, Cas waits for him to actually speak to his acceptance.</p><p>Rolling his eyes, exasperated he states, “Thank you, I only hope the buyer sees the same as you do.”</p><p>“I’m sure they will, Pa said they’ve been working their farm themselves near to a decade now so they’ll have no issue seeing the work you’ve done here.”</p><p>Again, Dean’s nerves pick up at the whole prospect of what this day’s going to hold for them.</p><p>Wiping a hand across his forehead he cringes, remembering too late the dirt he has on them.</p><p>“I’m going to go wash up before they get here,” Dean says as he moves past Cas.</p><p>He’s stopped by an arm placed just below his elbow.</p><p>“Even if the sale doesn’t go through Dean, you still worked on Ringer as you should have and he’s a far better horse than he used to be,” Cas says, drawing him in.</p><p>The hand on his arm slides up to cup the back of his neck. He goes willingly when Cas pulls him forward to press a lingering kiss to his lips.</p><p>“Go wash, you’re a mess,” he murmurs with a glint in his eyes.</p><p>“Wouldn’t be if I’d had help this morning,” Dean tosses back with a playful smile, laughing as Cas rolls his eyes yet again at his antics.</p><p>While he washes, he can hear the low din of the family through the door that separates the mudroom from the house proper. He’s not sure where Cas ended up but he doesn't hear the man's gravelly voice amongst the voices that make their way to him.</p><p>He runs some of the tepid water through his hair before brushing it with his fingers into a partial style to make himself look more put together. Dean takes a slow deep breath and rests his hands on the sink basin as he steels himself for the next few hours of posturing and propriety.</p><p>Dean’s walking back around the house when he hears who he assumes to be Charles exit through the front door. He decides to walk to the stables instead of greeting the buyer at the house, partially to allow Charles to say his greetings and discuss some details about the proceeds and partially to delay the inevitable.</p><p>He takes Ringer from his stall and walks him out to the paddock so that whoever it is that’s come to look at him will be able to see him as they walk up.</p><p>He’s keeping busy as best he can, walking Ringer around the paddock and stroking his hand through his mane. He speaks lowly to the animal, clicks his tongue every so often to hold his attention. It doesn't escape his notice when Charles and the buyer begin their walk over to him, he tries best he can not to seem on edge. Not only would they possibly pick up on it but Ringer most certainly would and Dean knows that making a horse jumpy is a sure-fire way to ruin a deal.</p><p>As they get closer Dean sees that the buyer is a woman, with uncommonly short hair and—once she’s close enough so see—kind eyes that still manage to convey that she's not one to be pushed around.</p><p>The woman approaches the fence line, Dean piles his reins onto the top of Ringer's saddle and strides over to where she is standing.</p><p>“Morning son, my name’s Jody Mills,” Jody extends a hand for him to shake. He's mildly surprised at the force behind her grip. “I’m here to look at the work you’ve done with Ringer.”</p><p>“Yes Ma’am, if you’d like you can come around and join me in here so you can get an up-close look.”</p><p>“I’m going to have my son join you, Ms. Mills, he was part of the training as well and knows each step the boy took in training so you can get a broader view of his skill.” Charles leaves without much more in the way of conversation and Dean starts to explain to Jody what the training had been like.</p><p>“He was a difficult horse in the beginning, quite skittish and untrusting, but as you can see he’s come very far in welcoming human touch and being comfortable with exposure to new people,” Dean says as Jody walks through the stables to stand opposite him, Ringer between them.</p><p>“Have you worked with a lot of horses before…”</p><p>“Dean, Ma’am,” he says quickly when he understands that she wants his name.</p><p>“You’ve got a lot of experience with horses then, Dean?”</p><p>“I’ve been working with them about a decade or so, so I’d say so yes.”</p><p>“Dean was also the one who finished breaking Ibby, our foal, in,” Cas says suddenly from behind Dean. Turning, Dean is gifted with a warm smile that matches his own before it slips from Cas’ face, replaced by a more neutral expression.</p><p>“Charles mentioned that you’d only been here a few weeks?”</p><p>“Yes Ma’am I’ve been working on Ringer for not quite a month and Ibby for about two or so weeks before he was finished.”</p><p>“Well I’m quite impressed with your abilities.”</p><p>“The handler only does so much, the horse plays a much larger role in their breaking in,” Dean says running a hand along Ringer’s shoulder. “Would you like to have him run through some of the training we’ve done; so that you can see what he knows?”</p><p>“We can do that, but I’d like to know more about your approach to training, how you went about gaining his trust and starting him on the drills to teach him all that he knows now.”</p><p>“I would have thought you’d be more interested in Ringer, Ma’am, seeing what he’s capable of doing and the like,” Cas pipes up from where he stands off to the side.</p><p>“Don’t mistake me, I am interested in Ringer's abilities but why would I care more for the horse when I’m here to inquire about his handler?” Jody says looking between the two of them.</p><p>“I’m sorry?” Dean asks after a beat of stunned silence.</p><p>“I’m here on behalf of my and a few other farms to offer you a job with one of us,” Jody says with a confused look, “Ringer is only part of our interest, Charles thought it best to offer someone with such promise the chance to work on a larger farm, with fewer responsibilities outside of equestrian work. In short, we’d like to recruit you as it were, and Ringer as an addition to you, as we’ve been told that he’s being broken in for riding instead of labour. I would have thought you would have been told this prior to my arrival?”</p><p>Dean can’t seem to think of anything to say. Jody—no, Jody and others—want to employ him? A job where he’ll get to work with horses all the time, where he’ll have the resources he’s never had before to do the best job he can. He doesn’t know where this place is but it might be far enough away that he doesn't have to ever worry about his past again. A place where he can send Sam letters with a proper address on them, where he can maybe make enough money that neither he nor Sam will struggle anymore.</p><p>Dean stops. He sends his eyes over to Castiel, the man isn't looking at him, instead he’s staring at Jody as though she’s grown an extra head. Taking this job, whatever it is, would with absolute certainty mean leaving Cas, and Dean’s not sure if he can do that. A pit opens in his stomach, plunging his heart down to its fathomless depth. <em>He doesn't want to leave</em>. For the first time in his life, he’s found a place that he doesn't wish to say goodbye to.</p><p>“It must have slipped my father's mind,” Cas says when he realizes that Dean can’t seem to say a thing. His face is hidden behind a mask. Dean wants to think it is one of false indifference but he has no way of knowing for sure.</p><p>The blankness of Cas’ expression chills him. Dean has never seen such an emotionless expression on Cas’ face. Then again, he’s also never seen Cas in a business deal setting, maybe the man has an incredible poker face when it comes down to brass tacks.</p><p>Dean is hardly able to stay present throughout the next hour or so, Jody had the forethought to write out most of what she would say so that Dean could read it later and work through whatever words he didn’t immediately understand. He and Cas interchangeably explain the work Dean had been up to in his weeks on the farm and answer whatever questions Jody asked about his knowledge or problem solving, as well as the less common work Dean had done in his life and on the farm.</p><p>She seems impressed, going so far as congratulating Dean on his accomplishments with equestrian work, though he thought none of it was especially admirable.</p><p>Eventually, it comes time to talk about the farms themselves; the staff, the work, and where they are located. Dean knows that if he’s going to accept this job, he’s going to want to work on the farm closest to Sam. With his newfound ability to write to Sam if he so desired, he'd like to be close enough for the letters to be delivered in a timely manner.</p><p>Dean thinks that the only way to make this opportunity feasible—what with it meaning he’d have to say goodbye to Cas—would be to be close to Sam.</p><p>His stomach twists again as he thinks about leaving Cas, and then immediately his heart beats faster at the panic that follows when he realizes just how much he wants to stay by Cas’ side.</p><p>But Cas deserves far better than Dean can ever give him, he knows that as much as he knows anything. Cas would lose his family and his life here on the farm if he didn’t find himself a nice woman to settle down with, someone who he wouldn't have to hide. What can Dean give him? A life of hiding, one where he can’t have a relationship with his family, one where they can’t show their affection openly, no devotion before God, no promise of a happy ending.</p><p>Why would Dean want to subject Cas to that fate when he could make it so Cas could live as he should? Where one day he’ll get to be old and content, sitting on a porch watching his legacy fold out in front of him in the form of happy children.</p><p>Though, hadn’t Cas said often enough how little he wants that life for himself? Or was Dean conflating his words to better fit what he had wanted to hear from the man instead?</p><p>Dean doesn't want to leave, he wants to stay here with Cas, as foolish as it sounds and damaging or disastrous as it could be, some force within him begs to stay with Cas as long as the man lets him. A force that has won out more often than not in the weeks that he’s been conflicted with it.</p><p>He can't very well tell Cas that he wants to stay with him, for one it’s assuming a great deal about what Cas could want from whatever it is that they are doing, and for another, he’s not sure he could handle the blatant rejection and possible ramifications that could come from admitting that his wants go far past simple acts of hedonism and sin.</p><p>It’s one thing to desire a man in your bed and to act on it, but to desire a man in your heart is another matter altogether. And it's not a want Dean thinks he’s ready to share.</p><p>He realizes quite belatedly that his eyes are still trained on Cas. As he turns, he sees Jody watching him quizzically, alarm beats a frenzied drum in his chest at being caught and his cheeks flame in response.</p><p>Cas leaves them, citing that he needs to discuss matters with his father and that he would leave the two to talk more on the opportunity in his absence. Dean can hardly help the way his eyes flit to Castiel’s retreating form every so often as Jody makes idle chatter directed at both him and Ringer.</p><p>“Dean, I made it a duty of mine not to inform you as to which of the farms was my own as it wouldn't be fair to the others. If it's not my property that you choose, a letter will be sent out to the owner detailing plans for your arrival and you will leave on Ringer within a week of the letter being sent. I’ll be in town for four days and by that time I’ll need you to have decided on which property you’d like to work on, if you want to take this position. I understand now that this is quite sudden and you may wish to remain here, though if Charles is looking to send you away, I would think that he doesn’t have much use for you here. Whatever you choose, it needs to be chosen before I leave. Oh, and if you choose my land, you’ll have the option of leaving whatever time you’d like as long as it’s before the end of the month,” she says with a motion to the page, it no doubt saying the same thing.</p><p>Dean stands there a bit dumbfounded; with the sheer amount of information given to him, he’s a bit taken aback. Still reeling over his discovery about Cas, and the entire concept of Charles finding him work elsewhere—which as he thinks more on it doesn't quite make sense, why would Charles seek to get rid of him when in reality his work on the farm has been exemplary save for the ending of his first week? And why would he choose not to mention it to him or his son when he had plenty of time to do so. Charles doesn't seem to be one to forget important business matters—never mind the decisions he’s now facing.</p><p>“I’ll be back in four days to sign the contract and deliver a gig that you’ll want to get Ringer familiar with before the trip,” Jody says as they walk back into the stable. Dean nods but his mind is still elsewhere.</p><p>Eventually, of the million thoughts flying around in his head, he settles on a question that he knows Jody will be able to answer.</p><p>“Ma’am I hate to pry, but how is it that you came to own your farm? Most women I’ve come across are the wives of the owner instead of the owner themselves.”</p><p>“You’re not the first to ask me that son,” she pauses and sends him a warm smile. “My husband owned the farm, he passed more than a decade ago, and with no siblings, both his parents long dead and sadly no children for us to speak of, I was left the farm, now I run it myself with help from staff such as you would be.” Jody stops, turns back to face him and though her face is open there's an intensity in her eyes that is explained with her next words.</p><p>“I’m not blind Dean, I saw the way you were looking at Castiel. I looked at my own share of women that same way, landed myself one too. You’ll meet her if you end up picking us.” Dean’s about to deny it—though he knows it to be useless—when Jody says, “I’m the one you’ll be signing a contract with, you don’t need to worry about that getting in the way of your options here.”</p><p>Dean’s slack-jawed as she finishes speaking but he composes himself enough to say, “Yes Ma’am, th—thank you Ma’am.”</p><p>“Don’t thank me yet son, you’ve got a lot of thinking to do and not all of it will be fun.”</p><p>Dean thumbs the folded paper in his hand, words scrawled across it spelling out a future he never thought he would be able to have. A small part of him is filled with a childlike excitement at the new possibilities, even down to the signing of a contract—something he’d never done before when finding work for himself, not that he’d had a name to sign with—but still a weight drops in his chest each time he thinks about Cas.</p><p>Honestly, he knows he would stay if Cas asked him too, perhaps it’s foolish to think that way, to be willing to give up an opportunity like this but he’s never exactly been bright.</p><p>Cas has made an immense difference in his life in mere weeks, how could he be willing to give that up?</p><p>He’s leading Ringer into his stall when he realizes just how right Jody was; none of the next few days are going to be fun.</p>
<hr/><p>It takes him three days to pick which farm he’s going to choose. In truth that's a lie, the second he’d figured out which was the closest to Sam he’d had his answer but a part of him refused to acknowledge the decision because of what it meant for him.</p><p>A part of him wants to stay. Actually, a large part of him wants that. Every time he thinks about the move, his stomach squirms at the thought of leaving Cas, so badly sometimes it makes him nauseous. But a small voice pipes up in the back of his mind telling him that it’s best for Cas if he leaves, it’ll allow him the chance at a real life, a good life, because who knows if Cas is going to want this in two weeks? Two years? Dean doesn't know if Cas will want to act as though nothing ever happened when he wakes up tomorrow.</p><p>It kills him to think of leaving, but he’s not going to stay for his own selfish reasons and ruin Cas’ chance at the life that he could have.</p><p>Cas has given him his breakfast each morning since Jody’s meeting. His voice seems softer and more resigned and Dean wants so desperately to think that it’s because of Jody and the jobs and his father not being forthright with information that affects him directly, but to get his hopes up is to leave them vulnerable to being destroyed and Dean can’t have that.</p><p>Cas joins him still in his work, spending a couple of hours beside him making sure that Ringer is making the most progress he can, but he’s quiet. Content, it seems, to let Dean fill whatever silence he feels he should. It’s not wholly uncomfortable, but Dean feels an edge in the air. One he could be imagining; one only he might feel.</p><p>At night Cas still spends time with him, they still write and read, the first night they read the information Jody had left just in case Dean needed help with some of the words—though he was pleased to learn that he needed less help than he would have thought.</p><p>They still sit so close together it makes Dean's skin thrum, Cas still leans in and puts his lips behind Dean’s ear to whisper words that don’t need to be spoken loudly. Uses his skin as a confessional and pours his sins out against him, letting him bathe in all that Cas is. They still end up tangled around each other, chests heaving and skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat.</p><p>It screws with Dean’s head to no end.</p><p>The day he lets himself recognize his choice, he’s both excited and apprehensive. Ringer can tell his emotions are off, he is more skittish and less cooperative. It does nothing to calm Dean down considering his entire draw for these people is his ability to work and train horses.</p><p>It’s night by the time Cas and Dean get more than a second of quiet together and Dean’s beside himself with nerves, scared to go through with the decision, scared not to, scared to talk about it, scared of what might happen if he holds it all in.</p><p>“Jody is back tomorrow, are you—do you have your answer for her yet?” Cas asks after several moments of silence; a lull having found its home in their conversation.</p><p>“I think so, yeah. I’ve got Sam to think about so it was more or less decided for me once I looked at the options.”</p><p>“It’s good that you’ll be close to your brother,” Cas says though it seems like he’s unsure, or possibly like he’s trying to convince himself.</p><p>“Yeah, I mean, I’ve always looked out for him and since he went off to his apprenticeship, I haven’t been able to do that. Knowing that he’s not too far, maybe even getting to see him, it’ll be more like it was… just better because I won’t have to worry so much because he's all grown up now.” He feels weird talking to Cas about this, almost like he shouldn’t, but who else is he going to talk to about this. Who else would even care?</p><p>“And this is what you want? I’m sure that my father could still find work for you here if you didn’t want to chance working with a different family.”</p><p>Dean wants to shake Cas for being so stupid, for not seeing how little he wants to leave but he can’t, can he?</p><p>Instead, he tells Cas what he should have been reminding himself of each day since he first crossed into their land.</p><p>“Jody made a convincing argument that if your pa was looking to get rid of me, it stands to reason that he doesn’t have much work for me here anymore. Plus, I’d never meant to spend very long with y’all. Truly I was just passing through, but I stuck ‘round for some time, first ‘cause of my injuries then because of Ringer. I figure that another chance like this ain’t guaranteed to come around again.”</p><p>“All we have is work to do here Dean, you’ve been busy morning to night since you’ve been able to work again. I have no idea why my pa ever looked into this but there’s no shortage of stuff for you to do here.”</p><p>“Cas, man, I don’t know any more than you do what made your pa contact the farms, but he did and I’ve got to go with the safest option, I’m not exactly jonesing to be out of work again.”</p><p>“So you want to leave?”</p><p>God, Cas could be thick sometimes. Leaving was the furthest thing from what he wanted to do. But how was he supposed to let Cas know that when he knew how selfish it would be to say so?</p><p>“I want work, I can get that with one of these farms.”</p><p>“And you’re heading west,” Cas says. It’s both a question and a statement as though he knows but needs confirmation.</p><p>“I will be, I’ll know tomorrow when it is that I have to leave, though.”</p><p>Cas makes a noncommittal noise; his head ticks up as his eyebrow does. A blasé show of agreement.</p><p>“And what then?”</p><p>“Then? Then I suppose I say goodbye, I don't see what else there is to do.” The words taste bitter in his mouth, laced with anger and frustration at the situation he’s found himself in. The situation with Cas, with him on the farm, with him and this work. The mess that he'd created simply by staying far longer than he ever planned to is coming back to cause terror and there's nothing he can do for it until he can leave.</p><p>Without leaving, he’s powerless to stop any of it because he doesn't want it to end. In the end, it will be better for everyone for him to move on. He just has to keep telling himself that.</p><p>Castiel says nothing for a long time. His jaw works itself over, his face mars and clears in odd cycles. Now and again he’ll look up at Dean, study the man, search his eyes for god knows what, before dropping or averting his gaze.</p><p>“What’s it like?” he asks. When he sees that Dean doesn't have an idea as to what he clarifies, “Leaving I mean, what's it like to just say goodbye to a place and never look back?”</p><p>Oh, Dean thinks, so Cas is going to follow a plan, be it school or marriage. He plans to make more of himself, and from what he’s told Dean, it’ll mean leaving. Who better to ask than the man who's left everything behind more than once in his life, who’s strongest tie is to an adult sibling (who Dean fears only wants to keep him in his life for the comfort of their shared childhood)? His chest constricts upon itself, if he’d let himself dream, the reason Cas wasn’t offering to go with him was because he just wasn’t ready to leave, that his connections to his home are too strong. Then again, if he’s asking about it, didn’t that prove he was ready to leave, and that he just didn’t care to leave with Dean?</p><p>“It’s hard, especially the first few times, for you, you’ll worry about who it is that you are leaving, what ties you have that will break once the distance gets too great for the connection to withstand. You’ll fret over unfinished business and words left unsaid. But it gets easier, either you stay for shorter amounts of time or you never manage to forge the same connections with the people you meet next.”</p><p>Dean takes a deep breath and continues, “a part of you stays in each place you settle, the life—however insignificant—you made for yourself will always leave remnants. And at some point, you’ll see that you’ve left behind a graveyard of whispers of yourself… It's a comfort and a curse. It’s odd to know that you stay in each place but that it’s never really you there. It takes years to learn not to look back. Hell, even with all my practice I still wanted to, still want to. To catch that last glimpse, to see the memories played out in the swirls of dust that kick up and settle, you can’t ever move forward if you are forever looking back, not in any way that matters really. You don’t walk a horse backwards to get where you are going and all that. But at some point, you’ll find that what's ahead might be better than what's behind, and that’ll be enough to make it worth it. Or at least I hope it will,” he says in all truth.</p><p>A feeling spreads itself wide in Dean’s chest, stretching itself into every corner, taking up all the space it can until it's the only thing he can feel. Yet he can’t name it. The fact that Cas is prepared to leave this place should make him proud. Hell, it does make him proud because it means that Cas is going to go after what he wants, especially if he chooses to believe that Cas isn’t going to succumb to what his ma wants. Either way he’s prepared to move on, but it hurts beyond comprehension that he doesn’t want to move on with Dean. That he’s content to learn from Dean how to leave behind all he’s ever known but that he in no way wants to do so in order to stay with him.</p><p>It shouldn't surprise him really, and maybe it doesn’t, he certainly doesn’t feel shocked. It hurts and he knows it shouldn’t — because what is he to Cas honestly? Dean didn't want to do Cas the dishonour of believing that he was simply the closest warm willing body, but now he couldn’t be sure of anything else.</p><p>It’s regret, and anger and sorrow; it’s confusion and frustration and an emptiness that he’d long ago gotten acquainted with, it's a confirmation of everything he already knew and it tears into him.</p><p>For a moment he had let himself foolishly believe he could be enough for Castiel, he never once believed he’d be worthy of it, but he allowed himself the fantasy of Cas never figuring that out. It’s gone now, replaced with a seizing feeling in his chest and he can do nothing for it. What with the person he’d seek comfort from being the very same one who caused the pain in the first place.</p><p>“Were you ever able to keep in touch with the people in the places you’d moved on from?” Cas asks snapping Dean so harshly out of his thoughts he’s surprised he didn't get a physical injury.</p><p>“I never had cause to, but I’m sure I could have. I marginally stayed in contact with Sam up until I left town this last time. Sending money to him whenever I could. But leaving doesn't mean that you have to cut those people off.” He quiets for a minute. “Actually, I was hoping to send a letter ahead of my arrival to tell Sam about all that's changed since last he heard from me."</p><p>Cas is silent, lost further in thought than Dean had been only moments ago. Eventually, he breaks himself out of it and looks back at Dean, who had been stealing glances at Cas all the while.</p><p>“I should go,” Cas says. A stone sinks into the pit that still resides in Dean’s stomach.</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“You have an important day tomorrow, likely so do I with all the records that will need to be updated once you’ve signed the contract. We should both get some sleep; it wouldn't do for us to be tired on such a busy day.” Cas is standing by the time he finishes, intent on leaving as soon as he can.</p><p>Dean barely has time to form a word of response before Cas says, “Goodnight Dean,” and slips through the door of the barn. He’d gone so quickly Dean hadn't had the chance to say it back.</p><p>He’s never seen Cas act so oddly. He’s careful not to think too heavily on it, not wanting to project his wants or hopes onto Cas’ behaviour when almost anything could have caused the oddity.</p><p>As much as talking about it upset him Cas seemed responsive to his advice about moving on. He even looked, at times, as though the entire ordeal was seeming less and less impossible as Dean detailed the aftereffects of undergoing such a decision.</p><p>He looks over and sees his slate. Mostly erased etchings of his name written out again and again in practice. He had wanted to ask Cas to help him create a signature, but he supposes now that he’ll just write it out normally on his contract because it is the only way he knows how to do so.</p><p>Bittersweet excitement makes itself known again in his stomach. He has to remind himself that no matter what, taking the new job is the right choice. It's the only choice guaranteed not to backfire spectacularly. He wants to stay with Cas but he needs to leave no matter how much he knows it will hurt.</p><p>The odd feeling doesn’t dissipate, it’s as though his body already regrets the choice he hasn't gone through with yet. Dean settles in for the night, turns out the lantern, and desperately tries to think of what he’ll put into the letter he wants to send Sam. The feeling gnaws at his heart, settles behind it so that with every beat it pains him. He hopes that signing the contract will make it go away, but a part of him knows it will do nothing of the kind.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm really interested in what you all thought about this chapter, it fought me quite a bit along the way (but it did end up somewhere I'm happy with) and while it is a fair bit shorter than the last couple have been (though it was still long) a lot did happened in it.</p><p>Not least of which was Dean finding himself in a bit of a pickle, a pickle that Cas seems quite interested in, I mean why so many questions Cas?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Moment the Future Clicks Into Place</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you are sensitive to final goodbyes to family members you might want to grab some tissues before you reach the end of this chapter, if not carry on</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The memory of Jody telling them that Dean is the one that she’s here to inquire about likes to spring forth in Castiel’s mind unbidden at all times of the day. Each time it does, it sends another spike down his spine. <em>Panic</em>, he thinks, is what the feeling is, and as much as he tries to ward himself against it, it never works.</p><p>He had wanted to scream then and he still wants to scream now. He truly doesn't understand how things so quickly went to rot. He and Dean were getting somewhere, or at least it seemed that way to Castiel. Dean was opening up, it wasn't just desire, it was genuine a connection between them. But now Dean is leaving.</p><p>He never thought himself stupid enough to land himself in such a scenario. And he was far from foolish enough to think that Dean would stay, especially when he had a chance at seeing his brother, at making a place for himself, and a way to build up a better reputation for himself. It’s all Dean had said (or implied) he wanted. Who was Castiel to ask him to stay? Who was he to keep Dean from what he’d always wanted because he’s selfish enough to want him for himself?</p><p>It took him all of a few seconds to be horrified at himself for his thoughts, was it not true that if he cared for Dean, he would want what was best for him? He should be happy for Dean, getting what he’s wanted for so long, but he can only feel put out.</p><p>So he says nothing. How can he hold Dean back when all Dean has ever wanted in life is take care of his brother? And now he has a real shot to do just that very thing with this new job. The money has got to be better than what he’s getting here, and Castiel knows Dean would give life and limb to see his brother succeed in life.</p><p>He keeps his mouth shut as Dean talks to Jody, and later that night while Dean talks to him while they read the information Jody left. Castiel can’t help the feeling that spreads in his chest at seeing Dean able to read the words laid out in front of him, he only wishes it was strong enough to overpower the one of unease that’s taken residence beneath his ribcage.</p><p>He stops himself from wishing he could be enough for Dean, reminding himself constantly that that's not really why Dean is leaving. It’s not that Castiel isn’t enough, it's that there is a force in Dean that puts Sam above everything else. He won’t try to keep Dean here, but Castiel knows that if Dean were to ask, he’d go with him with little hesitation.</p><p>He’s sitting in his room, blank sheets of paper in front of him after talking with Dean. Jody’s back tomorrow, Dean’s departure is inching closer and the conversation they just shared had gone so differently from what Castiel had wanted—but even still it had given him an idea.</p><p>Hearing Dean talk about leaving gave him that final push. Castiel is done living his life as though he’s waiting for it to start without him. He’s done waiting around for the day his parents will understand and accept that he doesn't want what they want.</p><p>He doesn't get far in making a plan, getting to point number one before stopping and having to think. Hence, why he’s sitting with empty pages in front of him and far too many thoughts swirling around his head. After a few more minutes he begins to write.</p><p>It takes him no more than twenty minutes to write it all down, asking a favour he never would have thought to ask his brother had it not been for Dean.</p><p>The request is simple. Play messenger. The irony isn’t lost on Castiel that he’s asking Gabriel, who's named for the messenger of God, to relay his letters to his siblings.</p><p>He doesn't know how his parents will react to letters addressed from him showing up on the farm for his siblings once he has left. The last thing he wants is for his siblings to think he stopped caring for them. This is the only way he can think of to ensure that they get his messages. He just has to hope that Gabriel accepts.</p><p>He ends the letter with clear instructions not to respond until he gets a second letter from Castiel with whatever new location he ends up at. He is as clueless as the next person about where this is all going to take him.</p><p>Reading the letter again, he’s hit in the chest with an intense sadness. Even with the letters, he’s going to miss so much of his sibling’s lives, and he’s not sure how he’s actually going to cope with the change. Every child grows up and leaves home, but for Castiel, his younger brothers and sisters have meant more to him than he’s meant to himself.</p><p>Never before has he been so forced to confront the changes his future will bring, it fills him with melancholy and nostalgia, not for moments lived, but for moments he’ll never get to experience. And not for the first time, he wishes things were different so that he didn't have to leave; so that Alfie would always have his leg to hide behind, Uriel would always have him there to make sure that he was being safe as he played, and Hannah would always have him around to confide in.</p><p>He doubts he’ll ever be ready to leave, always another milestone around the corner, another memory to be part of, another smile or laugh or hug or tear to wipe from a reddened face. But at some point, he knows he has to let go. He also knows that right now is that time for him. He knows he’ll mourn, likely won’t ever stop, forever aware of what he’s missing. But staying means giving in and that’s something he can’t do. Staying means eventually leaving anyways, at least with this choice he will get to live as he wants.</p><p>He admonishes himself for his melodramatics before he realizes that, as much as this isn’t his death and this isn't time for a eulogy, he’s likely never going to return to the farm. Sometime soon he will lay his eyes upon his siblings for the last time in his life. Perhaps he’ll be fortunate enough to see them again in a few years, when the predictable scandal of his sudden departure has calmed to the point of being nothing of note. Perhaps at a wedding or in a visit planned without his parents' knowledge.</p><p>He wishes that everything could be different, that he could leave and come back a few times a year, that the betrayal of leaving would be the only thing causing issues. But he’s going to live his life the way he wants to; no wife, no children. He knows that’s not a life his parents will ever approve of, which means he’ll end up the same as Lucifer in his parent’s eyes.</p><p>He doesn't let himself think about what his life will be like when he’s able to finally live it as he wishes. It hurts equally too much to imagine Dean’s face in his fantasy as it does to imagine a faceless man as a stand in.</p><p>His eyes have been welling up for longer than he’s aware, yet he is hardly surprised when a tear escapes and rolls steadily down his cheek. Others follow and then more still. His chest feels like it’s being pressed in a vice. He curses out at whatever deity saw fit to cause him pain such as this, a pain that truly hasn’t even hit yet, this is all pre-emptive and yet it’s more than enough to destroy him.</p><p>He’s never thought himself dumb enough to expect fairness from the universe, but this seems unjustly cruel.</p><p>He’s careful not to let any of his tears stain the pages of his letters as he lets himself stew in his anger. He knows it helps no one to wallow, but it’s cathartic to feel properly when he so often chooses to bury what bothers him.</p><p>He’s been doing it far more recently, <em>feeling</em> that is, than he’s done since he was a child. Messes of emotions war within him, getting stronger day after day. It's exhausting, he thinks, no wonder young children need so much sleep. Already, he feels as though if he were to rest his head on his pillow he would succumb to sleep within a few minutes. And yet he doesn't stop despite the exhaustion, he can’t stop, any attempt to ignore the emotions seems to strengthen them as though his mind was hell-bent on making him relive a reality that isn't his yet.</p>
<hr/><p>“Morning Castiel,” Jody calls as he exits the house, the heat of the day is already creeping into the baked earth and his shirt grows hot against the breadth of his shoulders, even the breeze it makes as it shifts is warm. Quite different from earlier that morning when he’d escaped to help Dean write his letter to Sam.</p><p>“Good morning Jody, I take it your ride here was pleasant?” he asks once he’s beside her, taking the liberty to begin unhooking the gig from the back of her own cab.</p><p>As much as the staggering weight of his emotions hasn’t at all lightened, he knows now isn’t the time to humour them. Business is business and that's all, he learned from his father that there's hardly room for feelings in transactions. He tries exceptionally hard not to listen to the pestering voice in his head that takes issue with Dean being reduced to a transaction, simply a deal to process and move on from.</p><p>There’s a voice in his head that screams at him to stop this, to find a way to guarantee that Dean will stay by his side, before the chill slices through him again. He’s nowhere near selfish enough to enact that wish, but beyond that, he hates himself for continuing to indulge in the broken up fantasy imaginings that come with the selfish and cruel thought that Dean should stay with him. That he shouldn't go to his brother, that Dean shouldn’t get a job that will ensure him money enough to support them both and a chance at a life that Dean deems worthy. A ridiculous concept to Castiel because he can’t think for a moment of anything Dean has done that would lead one to believe he’s living a worthless life.</p><p>His mind is thrown back to the task at hand when quite suddenly one of the tie-ups on the gig slips from his hand. He just barely manages to catch it before it falls to the ground. Knowing his luck, it would have broken had he not caught it. Castiel releases a low grunt at the shock.</p><p>“—whoa! Hey are you okay Castiel?” Jody asks in response to the noise.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m fine, just got a bit ahead of myself is all,” he responds, realizing that he hadn’t taken in a word of Jody’s trip onto the farm.</p><p>“We should probably see about Dean, huh? Make sure he’s with us before we go through any of the proceedings,” Jody says with a smile.</p><p>Almost as though he was summoned, Dean walks through the barn doors. Castiel can see a few pieces of paper of the letter he had written to Sam sticking out of his pocket. Castiel’s own sits hidden in his room.</p><p>“I’d hate to miss all the fun, ma’am,” Dean says when he walks up to the two of them. Something stutters dangerously in Castiel’s chest when he sees the smile on Dean’s face.</p><p>It is the perfect meld of excitement and joy, mixed with the barest hint of apprehension and… regret?</p><p>Perhaps Dean regrets his choice of farm, though Castiel can only think of one reason Dean would do such a thing, he assumes Dean must be nervous to see Sam again after so much has changed for him.</p><p>“Not much fun to be had I’m afraid, Dean” Jody answers.</p><p>“Well, either way,” Dean says, letting the sentence hang in the air.</p><p>They mill about for a few minutes, Jody ensures that she’s not leaving anything behind in her cab, and Dean talks to the horses at the front of the rig. Castiel simply tries to keep out of the way and focuses greatly on not staring at Dean as he speaks lowly to the animals.</p><p>Once Jody is ready, they head over to the stables. Castiel makes a mental note to make sure the gig is moved into the equipment shed before the day’s end.</p><p>He’s not sure where his father is, he thinks that he should probably be here for the contract signing, but he’s not about to leave to go get him. Castiel has been angry with his pa since he started this ordeal without letting him know.</p><p>After a quick look at Ringer and a few final questions, Jody pulls a folded stack of papers and a small box from the pockets of her dress. She wasn’t nearly as formally dressed four days ago, but Castiel assumes that she dressed for the finalization of their transaction. When she opens the box, Castiel can see a pen, a wax seal, and a small candle. Though he can’t see it, he also assumes that the box contains a fire steel and splint.</p><p>She places an envelope on the back of the table and smoothes out the contract.</p><p>“Okay Dean, first I assume you’ve picked which farm you feel most certain about. I’m going to need you to write it on this first line here. Castiel, are you able to act as witness on the contract?”</p><p>He nods his head, a sick feeling spreads through his stomach and his chest tightens impossibly. Maybe he should have gotten his father after all.</p><p>To know his signature will be on the document that cements Dean’s removal from his life hurts in ways he couldn’t have imagined. It's worse than just having Dean sign the document because, as witness, he contends that the contract is binding and signed in good conscience. And still, all he wants is for Dean not to sign it.</p><p>“Good, as Charles’ son you are our best option for a witness.” He knows it to be true. Jody knows that he has knowledge of the farm’s finances, a low stake-holding in the property, a good understanding of Dean’s character, and knowledge of the fact that he will in no way directly benefit from this deal. In fact, he thinks, this deal is a direct detriment to him.</p><p>Dean steps forward and picks up the pen from the only table in the stables. Absently Castiel hears Ringer huff; he hears the drone of the insects and the calls of the birds, but it all seems disconnected from him.</p><p>He wants to watch Dean as much as he doesn’t. If he could force himself, he would stare at the slowly moving panel of sunlight that sneaks its way into the stables. Soon enough that swath of light will be gone, moved along by the sun's trek across the sky. And how apt that he takes notice of it now in the moments of crackling silence as Dean begins the process of leaving as well.</p><p>Oh how screwed he is if Dean is his sun. How cold he’ll be without it.</p><p>He catches Jody watching him, clearly giving Dean the space to write out the farm’s name without any interference. Castiel knows that for this to work Jody can’t know what farm Dean is choosing until after the contract is completed.</p><p>She looks oddly conflicted, but Castiel doesn’t have it in him to decode her expression. Not when Dean is flipping the first page to ensure that his choice stays unknown.</p><p>“Castiel could you do me a favour and check the page? I don't doubt your understanding, Dean. But as witness, Castiel needs to be part of each step to sign in good faith.” Jody speaks up, still looking at him.</p><p>He walks up beside Dean and ignores the way his skin seems to excite with their closeness. He reads the first page, trying and failing not to let Dean’s writing hit him so squarely in the chest. He begins to worry about his ability to breathe for the rest of his life.</p><p><em>He</em> taught Dean how to do that, Dean is able to sign this document because Dean allowed Castiel the honour of teaching him. He bites the inside of his cheek harshly when his ribs seem to fall into the cavity of his chest. Dean was the one who put in the work, but there’s something about the way his letters look, a little messier because this pen is shaped differently from the chalk Dean is most used to using, that makes his heart sing as it struggles to beat in his empty chest.</p><p>Reading it quickly, he ensures that what Dean is signing into is something that the man would want. Good pay, a damn good position within their farm, even the colloquial fine print hides nothing sinister.</p><p>He turns the paper over again as Dean had and peers at the paper Dean is reading now. He sees his father's signature written down, no doubt from when Jody was here last. The remaining blank space at the bottom mocks him and heat crawls along in his veins, his heart starts to beat ever faster in his chest as reality starts to sink in around him.</p><p>There’s still a part of him that wants to stop all of this, to take Dean and make him not go through with the deal, but Dean doesn’t deserve that. Dean deserves to be happy. And if this, over Castiel, will make him happy, will help him live the life he deserves, he should have it. No matter how much his entire being begs Dean to say no to it and stay.</p><p>There's an uneasiness that starts in his stomach and runs along his spine. It’s not a feeling he’s overly used to, but it’s also not one he’s never known before. His late childhood was filled with this feeling, it's the same one that creeps up while his mother details all the lovely women she wants him to meet, though it's far less distracting then.</p><p>It's the feeling he gets each time his mother's cold gaze hits him directly or whenever his father avoids his eyes when they speak. He gets it whenever his older brothers and sisters, minus Gabriel, look at him as though it was his fault that Gadreel passed on. It is the same feeling he got as a child when Gabriel caught him staring at that boy. In that moment the feeling had sprouted fiercely in his chest and stomach that he thought he might actually get sick.</p><p>He knows there's no way to become accustomed to the feeling but he wishes it wasn’t so overwhelming all the same.</p><p>Dean flicks the other page for him to look at. It’s still unsigned, as though Dean knows Castiel wants to see it before he agrees to it.</p><p>This page too is proper, Jody knows what she’s doing. Castiel never doubted that, but he also doesn’t know how many hands had a part in making this contract, and he’s not about to let Dean make a mistake with this simply because he didn't do his due diligence.</p><p>He gives Dean a small nod once he’s read it and a soft smile graces Dean’s face, though it doesn't quite reflect itself in his eyes.</p><p>Maybe he is upset about having to leave. Though Castiel can hardly think of why aside from the demoralizing idea that Dean doesn't want to leave because Castiel is a more than willing partner for any of his desires. He doesn't want to think Dean would truly think that little of him as to reduce him to simply a convenient fuck, but he has nothing else to go on.</p><p>It's far too late to tell Dean about his own feelings, and how they extend far past that which constitutes the relationship they have now. But it hurts all the same that he has these budding feelings, and for all he knows Dean doesn’t hold him in the same regard.</p><p>“Everything looks set Jody,” Castiel calls back, he steps away making more than enough room for her to stand beside Dean.</p><p>“That’s great, okay Dean, when you sign, sign your name but don’t worry about the date, the contract already has it written down, now there’s no start date for when you are to be working because we don’t know where you are headed yet and that’ll make a difference, it does, however, outline that there is an expected time for your arrival giving you anywhere from seven to twenty days to arrive depending on the farm choice.”</p><p>Jody quickly signs her name, long and scrawling, taking the care to make fancy the few loops her name in cursive has. Castiel realizes at the same time as Dean that Dean doesn’t know how to write in cursive.</p><p>To save Dean from having to, Castiel speaks up quickly, “Jody is it okay if I sign in print rather than cursive, I'm afraid that I’ve not been using it very often and as such my skill when using it has decreased shockingly."</p><p>“Of course Castiel, I’m sure if you so desired you could use the heel of your shoe to sign it as long as it’s signed by our witness.”</p><p>“As tempting as that is, I’ll stick with my name.”</p><p>Dean shoots him a relieved, thankful look before he picks up the pen again.</p><p>His throat becomes thick suddenly and he looks away as Dean poises to sign. The patch of sun has moved, it creeps up the stable door’s frame, reaching and stretching its way along the wood, it reminds him of the etchings on the back wall of the stables made by his fingernails.</p><p>As he looks longer at the frame, it begins to remind him instead of the thin scratches in the door frame of the schoolroom in the house; small initials written next to lines with ages etched into the wood. Some start at one—a first birthday tradition in their family—others start later, forever remembering the first day a new sibling came home.</p><p>He thinks of his own lines, year after year they climb higher and higher, surpassing several of his older siblings—Gabriel was especially peeved the first year Castiel’s line was above his—they are an indication of his life, rudimentary and simple, but an indication no less.</p><p>While his and his sibling’s lines continued to climb, Castiel can’t help but think of how Gadreel’s initials stay securely at just below waist height, the little five next to his final line etched into the painted woodgrain a cruel marker of the life his brother never got to live.</p><p>The back of his eyes burn and he has to rip his eyes from the doorway to stop the tears that threaten to form. It bothers him to this day that he can’t ever remember his brother without the guilt and pain and anger rising in his heart and throat. Even his parents are able to speak of Gadreel without worry of choking up with the memories.</p><p>He wonders what his brother would have been like if he’d had the chance to grow up, would he have stayed the excited child Castiel barely remembers, or would the world have gotten to him and turned him pessimistic to even the minor joys of being alive. Would he have taken the same stance as Gabriel if he had been the one to discover that Castiel wasn’t quite like the rest of his siblings or would he have fallen victim to the words of his parents?</p><p>He was a blank slate when he died and Castiel can paint whatever portrait he’d like onto that canvas, but never will it be right. Never will he know who his brother was meant to become.</p><p>With freshly cleared eyes, he sees Dean press the tip of the pen against the paper, nervous though only Castiel can tell.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Each letter that flows from the pen strikes a part of him down, when Dean pauses after his first name Castiel worries that he's somehow forgotten to spell his decided upon last name. He silently walks forward, careful not to distract or scare Dean. Dean starts up again and, even more so, each time the pen hits down on the paper below it, something carves itself against his ribs, robbing Castiel of his breath with no hope of it returning while the assault continues.</p><p>When Dean lifts the pen after the final letter, equal parts of Castiel breathe a short sigh of relief and crumble at the fact that now it’s done, there is nothing he can say—not that he was going to—that can keep Dean here, keep Dean with him.</p><p>Instead of falling, as his slightly shaky legs seem to want him to do, he walks forwards, sucks in a quiet breath before peering down at the paper. <em>Dean Winchester</em> sits neatly on the page. It is only the second time Castiel has seen it written on anything other than the slate and it hits him squarely in the chest.</p><p>Clenching his jaw against all that he’s feeling, he picks up the pen and begins to print his name. He tries to keep from using cursive because, despite what he said to Jody, the letter in his room is written in script. In fact, the only time he prints is when he’s with Dean.</p><p>He looks at Dean once he’s done and sees warring emotions cloud his face. Scrunching his brow, he looks at him longer, but past excitement and trepidation Castiel isn't able to place anything.</p><p>“Now that that's done, I’m going to turn over this first page so I know who I’ll be sending this to before we seal it.” Jody is quiet for a moment as she reads before a smile spreads across her cheeks. “Well Dean, I look forward to having you come work on my farm.”</p><p>Castiel starts at that just as Dean sends a wide-eyed expression his way.</p><p>“Thank you, Ma’am, the feeling is mutual,” Dean says with a smile of his own.</p><p>They never talked about it, but Castiel assumes now that Dean had wanted Jody to end up being the one he went to work for.</p><p>“I have a bit of a rule son, I’m only Ma’am to those I don't know. I’d hope that soon you’ll call me Jody instead.”</p><p>“I’ll start working on that now,” he replies with a nod.</p><p>That’s it then, Castiel thinks as Jody extends a hand to Dean. Shooting him another glance, Dean takes her hand and shakes it soundly. He’s slow to realize that her hand is now extended to him but shakes it best he can as his mind races.</p><p>There's a buzzing in his ears that does wonders to tune out the rest of the conversation, but Jody isn’t looking at him at all so he assumes that he’s safe in being absent from the proceedings. Distantly, he is thankful that no one deemed it necessary for Dean and him to shake hands as well.</p><p>He watches as Jody takes the red candle, the splint and the steel from the box. She folds the pages and places them in the envelope before lighting the candle. Castiel holds his breath as the wax collects and begins to drip from the small well forming at the wick, each splatter onto the flap of the envelope makes him flinch minutely. Jody hands the wax press to Dean to seal the envelope.</p><p>When the sound of the seal snapping off the wax sounds, Castiel turns again, and how apropos is it that the sun that had been shining into the dirt-covered wood of the stable’s floor has since been swallowed by clouds. His sun is leaving, the sun is gone.</p>
<hr/><p>Castiel remembers little after the envelope had sealed. There’s talking, Dean is animated and joyous and Castiel is happy for him, if devastated for himself. Eventually, Dean asks Jody if she would take his letter into town and send it for him. Remembering, Castiel asks Jody to wait before running to his room (and getting scolded for it) to get his own letter. He remembers Dean sending him a surprised look when Jody accepted the envelope, but he doesn't respond, not wanting to explain what he’s decided. After that, Jody hands Dean a small bag of money, far more than enough for food and such on the several days journey he’ll embark on in the coming days or weeks.</p><p>Now back in the house, the anxious feeling stays deep in his centre, even though there's nothing to be done for any of it now.</p><p>He laughs morosely at himself; it would be just his fate to learn the true breadth of the feelings he holds for Dean at the same moment that he was at risk to lose Dean. And it would be his fate to do nothing about that realization. Not that this train of thought hasn’t played in his mind repeatedly since earlier that week. It hurts, even though they were his direct actions—or inactions—which led him to where he now finds himself.</p><p>He’s still not seen his pa, and as the hour moves closer to supper he’s less and less inclined to seek him out. He doesn't particularly want to sit with him at supper either but he has no way of avoiding that.</p><p>Nothing vexes him more than not being told what he has every right to know. It stretches back to Gadreel and continues to his father setting all this up without Castiel’s knowledge. Especially after the way he was reamed for letting his duties fall to the wayside as he had. Not a week later his father was busy making all of this happen. As if he could commit to what he needed to do if something, that would alter the farm as much as this will, was being left out of his understanding of the farm's practices.</p><p>He’s silent through supper, his mother again pushes him to agree to meet with some woman or another. His siblings do their part to keep conversations going while he is stuck within his own mind, stewing.</p><p>When he gives Dean his supper he sits with him, aware that he has a limited number of nights like this left. He feels as though he’s trying too hard now, the easiness they had is lost to what the events of the day mean for them. He can’t tell if Dean feels the same, he can’t tell much at all right now and it bothers him.</p><p>Dean’s face falls when he tells him that he has to talk to his pa and can’t stay as long as he normally would, but this is important, it’s necessary to understand what caused this.</p><p>They trade kisses because Castiel can’t help himself. He’s been selfless enough today—the past few days—and now he wants to be greedy. He wants to take all that he can, so he does.</p><p>He wants to drink in all he can of Dean before he leaves, he wants Dean to remember him even if it’s just of this. So he leaves bruises in the shape of his fingertips on Dean's waist, leaves a stubble raw chin, neck, stomach so Dean feels it all sting, leaves him breathless to make a lasting memory, he tugs sharply at the strands of hair at the top of Dean’s neck, pinpricks of pain he hopes will stick around. He leaves the taste of himself in the back of Dean’s throat, leaves half-formed begs on his lips.</p><p>He does everything he can to keep him in Dean’s mind. If this is all Dean will remember him by then so be it, he hates it, it makes his stomach turn but it’s better than Dean forgetting him.</p><p>When he switches gears and brings it back around to gentle kisses, he thinks he hears Dean whine but the feelings that swirl around in his head make it so much harder to be sure. He doubts that he’s ever felt anything near this level of possessiveness over anyone he’s been with before.</p><p>It’s not necessarily an outward claim that he desires, it's always been too risky to mark any of his partners or be marked by them. What he wants is for Dean to feel it, for Dean to know of the claim laid upon him and, because he can’t have that, he settles. He wonders what claiming a man destined to leave really accomplishes, nevertheless he does it.</p><p>When he leaves, Dean still looks a bit dazed, and if he’s smug about that in ways he shouldn't be, no one has to know.</p><p>The door to his father's study is ajar as he passes it and for a moment he debates not going in, not forcing what he knows is going to be an unpleasant conversation, but the itching that resides behind his ribs reminds him that he’ll never be fully content if he doesn't get answers.</p><p>He knocks gently on the door sending it swinging open slightly. His pa is sitting back in his chair, eyes trained on his desk. The tumbler in his hand and the glasses perched on his nose block his expression from Castiel.</p><p>“Pa?” he asks.</p><p>“Castiel, what is it,” his father responds, setting the glass of amber liquid onto the desk with a sigh.</p><p>“I saw your light on,” Castiel says as he walks in past the doorway. He sits on one of the other chairs in the room. “I just wanted to ask about how the farm would change now that Ms. Mills signed the contract today.” It still tastes bitter in his mouth to avoid referencing Dean directly or using his name when it’s so important to him, but Castiel knows his father may still have negative inclinations towards Dean and he doesn’t want to chance anything.</p><p>“Well we were managing just fine before, and now with the fixes the boy did, we should have no issue going back to how it was here,” his father says simply.</p><p>That answer doesn't sit right with Castiel. But he doesn't know what else to ask, how else to press to get what he came here for.</p><p>“What’s going to happen when I leave?” he asks then.</p><p>“Why would you be leaving?”</p><p>“Well Ma’s right,” he lies. “Soon enough I’ll have to start my life away from the farm.” That's not so much of a lie anymore. “With me gone and Balthazar only eleven, who’s going to keep up the work on the farm?”</p><p>“I assume, I would just have to hire someone else to cover for that discrepancy,” his father says slowly, as though he’s catching on. Castiel’s got to hand it to him, that was faster than we would have thought.</p><p>Castiel plays into it tilting his head to the side and pinching his brows together, “If you were just going to hire someone when I leave, why would you set up the transfer when you could have kept him here and avoided that all together?”</p><p>He’s gotten dangerously close to something; he can see it in his father's face. The way his eyes skirt around the room more than they had, right before they stop altogether and his face hardens. He’s never had much experience with dealing with that face, as a child he tried his best to stay out of trouble, not wishing to open himself up to the repercussions of ‘further wrongdoing’, and if something had gone wrong, Gabriel made sure that he was the one that had the stare trained on him instead.</p><p>“I’m finding it hard to understand why I’m being asked to explain myself to my child,” he says with barely restrained anger. “When did you learn such disrespect?” his father asks rhetorically.</p><p>Castiel could with good faith answer his question, but he keeps his mouth shut.</p><p>“I was simply asking after a bit of confusion, it just seemed more logical to me to forgo the process a second time.”</p><p>“And now you have your answer,” his father states despite not having answered the question at all.</p><p>He gets up to leave but as he has a hand on the door he turns back. “Pa?”</p><p>“Yes?” he responds tersely.</p><p>“Why did you set up the deal?”</p><p>“I beg your pardon?”</p><p>“I’m just curious as to what made you do it in the first place is all.”</p><p>“No doubt the boy’s got potential with horses, but ever since that first day when he told me that he didn't have a name, I knew he couldn’t stay long. I mean who knows the past he’s had, who he’s made bad with, I don't trust people like that, all they spell is trouble.” Castiel is seeing red but his father continues. “I was ready to have him leave after his screw up with Ringer, but then he started on the beast and I figured he had some uses. Now though? Ringer is done and so is he.”</p><p>Castiel seethes down to his core at his father's reduction of Dean. Down so far that he’s essentially become a damn tool that once it’s been ‘used up’ you toss away as though it’s nothing. Aside from Castiel's feelings for Dean, he’s still a human being, he still deserves respect from those around him.</p><p>His father is so quick to write off someone so hard working and kind, someone who has a way with animals he could never hope to have. Who, despite the horrors he’s suffered, still manages to be selfless and giving while shielding his heart so carefully so as to not be hurt again. And why? Because of preconceived notions of the type of person Dean must be because when they met, he was nameless?</p><p>He hates that his father is the same type of person that’s caused Dean to be as cautious as he is, as closed off and untrusting as he was when they first met. The same type of man that would have kicked Dean from their store over the slightest of things. The fact that Dean had to deal with any of that, that people couldn't see past one label <em>they</em> had given him and instead decided that by his clothes and scarred skin he must be trouble. Never allowing their assumptions to be challenged, never allowing Dean the benefit of the doubt as a bare minimum.</p><p>The world's dismissal of Dean is what led him into the path he took, he had no choice. How was an eight year old to know he could fight against what everyone around him was saying he’d end up as? He was a child. His life was already beyond Castiel’s comprehension as a kid who was the same age as Duma.</p><p>Worse still is that his father knows nothing of the life Dean lived, Castiel knows almost nothing of it himself and as such can’t judge Dean on any of his actions—which Dean seemed surprised at anytime he did tell Castiel something about his past—so how can his father judge Dean so harshly when he has no information to judge from.</p><p>Dean’s life was so full of negative memories, beating out the happy ones for top spot and it’s all because of people like his father.</p><p>“I see.” Is all he says in response before he returns to his room wishing for nothing more than to be with Dean so he can remind the man that people like his father don’t matter, that they don’t have to be the ones that decide how his life is lived.</p><p>Then again, Dean seems to be understanding that just fine himself considering the job he’s just accepted, and the fact that he embraced the name Castiel had offered.</p><p>Dean stopped allowing his life to be dictated by those that think less of him on some disgusting principle and Castiel can’t find it anywhere in himself to be anything but proud about that, even if it means saying goodbye to him.</p>
<hr/><p>Five days later Castiel sits in the kitchen of the only home he’s ever known. A home that has brought so much joy to his life, so much love from his siblings, so many memories it's like he can hear the laughter bounce down the hallways, or the wail of an infant in the dark of night. A home that he had all of his milestone moments in, same as his brothers and sisters, where every door or window is part of a million moments in his life that together made him.</p><p>A home that brought pain and sadness along with the joy, where his brother took his last breath, and his parents cried in their shared bedroom even after Gabriel had moved in. A home where all of his worst memories are sewn into the lace of the curtains and painted into the grain of the wood, so that he may never forget them no matter how insignificant or life-altering, the pain of a scraped knee, the tears of a sibling who sits as he and their mother tend to their injury, the weight of responsibility and guilt on his young shoulders, of learning that his father has never been the man Castiel thought him to be.</p><p>Castiel sits in his home, letting it sink into his bones, the smells and sights, the noises and the emotions that are almost tangible, able to be grabbed and understood through touch. He feels it all settle into him, every moment of his life, he lets it simmer, all the feelings that threaten to overwhelm him. Every part fits itself around his heart and it’s almost as though, as they piece together, something about the space shifts.</p><p>Castiel sits in the house and prepares to leave.</p><p>That night at supper Castiel asks his parents to allow him a moment of their time before they retire to their room for the night.</p><p>As usual, he takes Dean his dinner, and as is their new normal, the air is heavy with tension. Dean can feel it too but neither attempts to fix it, not knowing where to begin in the slightest. Castiel still takes what he can from their limited time together, gentle touches, soft smiles, stories shared. He makes memories with Dean while he can, not knowing if he’ll ever get the chance to again.</p><p>He finds his parents in the parlour, they sit talking and sharing the settee, his father's arm thrown over the back, his mother in the space it’s made. Castiel smiles, a final memory of his parents displaying affection he so rarely sees from them. He’s stopped when the sheer number of lasts in his upcoming days hits him.</p><p>“Castiel what is it you wanted to talk to us about,” his ma says when she sees him hovering just outside the doorway.</p><p>He smiles as he walks into the room and sits opposite them. “I’ve done a great deal of thinking in the past weeks since my older siblings were home. Seeing them living their lives, being happy with what they had found for themselves made me realize something,” he pauses. He can see that his mother is getting excited thinking that he’s going to request a courtship. He wishes he could say he hates to disappoint her but he doesn’t. “I’m ready to start my life, my proper life. I’ve discerned that to do this, I’ll need to leave. Being here at home, I find myself too drawn into the routines that we’ve had for so many years, and to begin my adult life I need to be able to separate myself from that.” None of what he’s saying is technically a lie. It's just not the full truth either.</p><p>His parents sit stunned for a moment, clearly not having expected any of this.</p><p>“I thought it best to let you both know, I’m not sure when I’ll be leaving, but I will be leaving.”</p><p>“But where will you go?” his mother asks.</p><p>“I’m not sure Ma, not yet at least, but I have some ideas, head out to a bigger city, find work, find my place in the world outside of the farm.”</p><p>“I’m not sure I understand Castiel, all of your siblings found their partners here, how are you going to be able to find a woman to marry if you are busy setting yourself up in a new city where you know no one? It doesn’t have to be that you go off before you’ve found a wife, we could get a courtship started and you’d still be able to leave and start your life, it would take but a few months.”</p><p>“Thanks Ma, but I need to do it this way.”</p><p>“But Castiel to live a life of prosperity in the eyes of God, you must first please the Lord, and to do that you can’t put yourself above Him.”</p><p>“I know Ma, I do. But I am getting closer to the age where I need to be able to support myself and pushing that back until such a time that I am married will only set me back further. Make it so that I can’t support myself when the time comes.”</p><p>He can tell that they both want to say more, but he’s not in any mood to hear it, especially considering he knows their general consensus on his choices.</p><p>“I’m going to turn in for the night, I know that it’s likely you both still have questions for me but I think it would be best to continue this tomorrow perhaps, after we’ve all slept on the information.”</p><p>“Castiel, hold on one moment please,” his father says. “Is this why you were asking about the state of the farm earlier this week?”</p><p>Castiel isn’t stupid, if he sees an out, he’s going to take it. Lying now means that his father won't think twice about him and Dean and what Castiel’s earlier insolence could have meant. “Yes, Pa, I just wanted to make sure that the farm would be okay if I were to go, with the assurance you gave me it’s made it far easier to come to the decision to leave in good conscience. I love you both,” he’s not sure why those words taste like a lie. “I know you want what's best for me, this is how I get that.”</p><p>He turns and leaves, his parents sitting in silence in his wake. A sort of smugness settles into him, his parents can hardly argue with him when it was his father's surety of the farms ability to function without him that—in their mind—is causing him to leave now instead of later.</p><p>No matter how his plan goes. He’s leaving one way or another, and he’ll be leaving soon. This is the only way to become the person he wants to be, and he’s got to do it.</p><p>The next morning, he tells Dean that he needs to spend the day with his siblings, if Dean’s face falls at the news, Castiel doesn’t see, his mind is far too occupied with what the day holds for him.</p><p>Returning to the house, he sits next to Anna at the table, an arm looped around the back of her chair talking to her as she eats.</p><p>As more children arrive at breakfast the volume rises in the house, and he starts to mentally catalogue what he knows he’ll miss when he walks out the door for the last time. Anna’s smile while her mouth is still full of porridge. The way Balthazar slowly wakes up and begins to talk animatedly to Uriel. How Anael manages to sneak in bites of her own food with the chaos of a full table.</p><p>He forces himself not to cry though his eyes do cloud over with tears. It's at lunch, after a morning of playing and helping the kids with their lessons that he thinks <em>not today</em>. Tomorrow maybe, the day after, next week, he doesn't know. He’s only sure that he can’t say goodbye today.</p>
<hr/><p>Dean is set to leave no later than four days from now and it's a countdown clock for him as well. Each day Castiel wakes thinking that it might be his last with him.</p><p>Most of his time is spent inside surrounding himself with his brothers and sisters, gathering every little detail about them and storing them forever in his mind, but he does help Dean get Ringer accustomed to the gig and the weight he’ll have to pull, going so far as to double it to ensure Ringer is well and truly able to make the trip.</p><p>Dean’s laughter surrounds him time and time again, stupid jokes or meaningless bickering sets Dean off into peels of it. He looks at Castiel one time, his eyes gorgeous and open, unguarded and free of what so often burdens him, and his chest seizes again, but this time it’s like a bell sounds in his mind and for some reason he thinks, <em>now</em>. He excuses himself once he can and through a constricted throat and misty eyes, he makes his way into his house.</p><p>They’re in the schoolroom, Anael is with the younger kids working through one of the books he’d given Dean weeks and weeks ago. Hannah is with the older kids making sure that everyone is doing their work.</p><p>He sits, although confident in his decision, he needs a moment to collect himself. When Inias spots him, she makes her way over to his side. Without hesitation, he pulls her up into his lap and wraps his arms around her.</p><p>“Are you gonna help us with our math Castiel?” she asks as he presses a long kiss to her head.</p><p>“I’d love to help you with math sweetie, what kind are we doing?”</p><p>And so he helps, he spends hours writing out tables for them to follow, rules of grammar and spelling. Charts with the sun and the planets and what it means to be kind to others. He leaves behind words of encouragement and love; he puts some of his favourite books into the room with all of his scribbled notes and an inscription inside each of them. He tries to leave some sort of legacy.</p><p>Through it all, there's a constant burning in his throat and the hitching in his breath goes unnoticed often enough that no one asks him about it. He picks up every one of his siblings—except for Anael—and holds them against him, he whispers jokes in their ears and memorizes the way they laugh one last time. He hugs Anael and does the same, he thinks she might be the only one who understands what's happening but she’s kind enough not to say anything.</p><p>He tells them all how important they are to him, how loved and needed they are. How no matter what, he’ll never stop loving them.</p><p>His heart shatters and rebuilds so often in those hours, he’s surprised it can still beat at all. Everything around him buzzes, and it's as though everything is clearer, like his brain knows to store these memories in more detail than anything.</p><p>His eyes well up and tears spring free and when Duma asks him why he’s crying, all he can say is, “I'm just so glad I have you all as my family. No one has been luckier than I, you are the best part of my life, please never forget that.”</p><p>He gathers Uriel in his arms, so young yet so serious about so much of life and reminds him that he’s not to climb above the clothesline. That he’s incredible just the way he is. That his seriousness is a gift but that he shouldn't give up on the playfulness Castiel knows lives inside him. He tells him that there are going to be people who don’t like him and reminds him that no matter what their family is there for him.</p><p>He takes Anna and hauls her up onto his lap, her whole life a clean slate in front of her and tells her that she has the power to be anything she wants. That there's joy to be found in the little things. That her favourite novels should end up with writing all through them when she gets older, notes and thoughts and understanding stained into the pages forever. He tells her that people will underestimate her all through her life and that no matter what, he knows her potential, he knows how great she can be.</p><p>Hannah comes and sits beside him, healthy and happy and he starts crying then but no one seems to notice, a saving grace if he's ever seen one. He tells her that her history doesn’t define her. That her past is something to be proud of and everything in life adds to who she’s becoming each day. He promises that one day these past weeks will be nothing more than a distant memory or a story to tell at a party. Tells her that she can live out her dream of becoming a seamstress and makes her understand that he supports every part of that endeavour.</p><p>He takes Anael aside and tells her that she has a light to her that deserves to shine. That no matter what her value doesn't lie in how good of a wife she can be. That married or not, he’ll still support her. Tells her that if she wants to learn that she should. Ma had a chance to before she got married and that opportunity shouldn't be closed off to her.</p><p>Balthazar, Inias, Alfie, and Duma, all come and he repeats sentiments, he tries to make sure that when he leaves, they won’t forget these final lessons he teaches them. That when they see the late afternoon sun stretch itself into the room, they’ll be reminded of him.</p><p>He tells them again and again, he’s proud of them, that he loves them, that he wants the best for them, wants them to find what makes them happy.</p><p>At one point he finds himself sitting back and watching as they all move about, their beings full of endless possibilities and again it hits him how he won’t get to see any of it.</p><p>These are the last moments that he’ll sit in the schoolroom, a place that has for so long been a safe haven and a haunted landscape. Where he learned and taught and screamed and played. Where Balthazar read his first book tucked in against Castiel's arm. Where Gadreel stays alive in the art still tacked to the wall.</p><p>His chest is a cave, a ravine that drags all of him inside it. It bleeds him until there's not so much left to fill a thimble and then it bleeds him some more. And he lets it, he sits by and happily dies in a way he’s never known a person could die.</p><p>Their smiles shine into his face and it’s almost laughable how it heals him and hurts him in equal measure. It’s worse than when Gadreel died, but better somehow as well. He has a hope in him that this isn’t the last time he’ll be able to tell them he loves him. But then again hope is a dangerous thing, it’ll just as quickly chew you up and spit you out as it will deliver unto you all that you want.</p><p>With this goodbye pertaining to so many of them it's far worse than it was with his brother, with his age now and all the understanding that comes with it, there's an extra blade carving into his chest, he knows what this loss will do to them if they love him even half as much as he had loved Gadreel.</p><p>There are no words for what he feels as he watches them. No way to describe the vice grip on his lungs and the smile painted across his face living at the same time as they currently do. No way to piece it together in his own head because this is it. These are the last moments, these are the last memories of them. He’s going to savour it; he’s going to remember it.</p><p>He tries not to think about how none of them know that these are the last moments they’ll have with him. How none of them know to pay extra attention or remember the moments they currently live. To them they’ll never not have this, the promise of a tomorrow with their brother is one they count on without even thinking about it. Of course, no tomorrow is promised.</p><p>He’s about to show them all—the children who have never known loss, heartbreak, grief—what it is to lose someone. He’s about to shatter all they know, shatter their innocence, shatter their hope. For all he’s taught them, he never thought he’d be the one teaching them about this, breaking their hope, their trust, breaking them.</p><p>It’s selfish, cowardly. It’s inhumane not to give them the same chance that he has to store the memories, the last moments they have with their older brother. Not allowing them to look at him once more, possibly for the last time in their lives, not allowing them closure. And wasn’t that the one thing he’d always wanted when they lost Gadreel? Closure? One last ‘I love you’, one last hug, one last everything. He robs them of it, he hurts them as he was hurt. After more than a decade trying to keep them from hurting like that, he’ll be the one to cause it. But he’ll never leave if they understand, he’ll never be able to make himself walk away while their tears play over and over again in his mind. And so, he says nothing.</p><p>His most egregious sin is silence when he should speak. He continues to sin, he damns himself to hell, if only to allow them a few more moments of happiness.</p><p>He knows what his next steps are, he just hopes that it goes as he wishes it does. Regardless his goodbyes were necessary and though it feels like his hearts been ripped from his chest and a knife feels like it’s driven itself into his spine he wouldn't be able to leave had he not said them.</p><p>He doesn't say goodbye to his parents, he doesn’t feel he needs to.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Full disclosure I cried several times while writing this chapter, Cas made a huge step to be the person he wants to be, a step that wasn't easy, and maybe even one he wouldn't have had to make for years, but he made it here and he just has to see where the chips fall.</p><p>Warning the next chapter is very long (not that any of these chapters are really short at all) so if it's time for some sleep you should probably get it now.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Journey Forwards is Often Troublesome</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The farm is quiet, its occupants asleep as they should be. The ground cools and the trees sway in the night’s breeze. Dean sleeps soundly, it’s new for him to be able to do that.</p><p>His nights are still filled with dreams but they haven’t caused him to wake with sweat clinging to his skin in some weeks. Even as the barn stands quiet, the calm doesn’t stray into eeriness, so he’s not sure why he wakes up in the middle of the night.</p><p>Quickly he takes stock of everything, the air isn’t crackling with the presence of another person. The horses aren’t baying in the stables. Nothing seems out of sorts.</p><p>His hand reaches out and slips inside his bag, his fingers grip around his pistol, the metal cool and familiar in a way that never fails to turn his stomach.</p><p>Sitting up, he listens again, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He hears steady footfalls suddenly and his grip on his gun tightens. He raises it in warning to whoever is on the outside of the barn. Panic flashes through him, it makes no sense, the timing doesn’t fit at all, neither does the evidence but still he immediately thinks that he’s been found. That his time on the farm has surely endangered everyone and everything on it. He cocks the gun and waits.</p><p>The steps get louder, then they stop, their owner hesitates, they quiet down as they walk away from the barn, but then their owner turns back and walks closer to the barn door.</p><p>Dean crouches as quietly as he can, something in his chest pulls at the actions of the unknown person, like he’s heard those same steps in a similar pattern before. He tries to think quickly about who he could be about to face, which man he crossed who had a step pattern like that but comes up blank.</p><p>Light shines through the cracks in the door and his nerves heighten more. It’s likely he won't be able to see who it is once they open the door, blinded by the light for a second, which has always been a second too long. He’s easy prey, every move this person makes works in their favour.</p><p>His heart slams in his chest as the door to the barn opens slightly, the blood rushing through his ears almost blocks out the… knock?</p><p>“Dean?”</p><p>Relief pours over him at the sound of Cas’ voice, his heavy breathing continues but at least he’s now able to take a proper breath.</p><p>“Cas, what the hell?” he asks in a terse voice, heart still pounding. He lowers the gun and unclicks the hammer before he puts it back into his bag. “What could have made you think sneaking up on me was a smart idea?”</p><p>“In hindsight, it was a poor choice,” Cas says as he walks into the barn. He sits with the lantern beside him. Dean huffs and releases his crouch, landing soundly on his ass.</p><p>He makes no move to speak knowing that soon enough Cas will fill the silence with whatever it is that brought him here in the first place.</p><p>“I told my parents I’m leaving. Said goodbye to my siblings… asked Gabriel to send them my letters so that they still hear from me, I don't know if he will though, I told him not to reply until I can send him another letter.”</p><p>It still carves into Dean that Cas is willing to leave but that he doesn’t want to do so with him. What had made him sure of leaving was that Cas wouldn't want to go with him because he wasn’t ready to leave his home. But now it seems they’ll both be going, just not together.</p><p>He can’t seem to make himself speak so he nods instead. Castiel looks at him, in the low light from the lantern he thinks he sees pleading in his eyes, but there's no way to tell for sure.</p><p>He fiddles with the edge of the blanket. Castiel fiddles with the odd pieces of hay on the barns floor. He’s nervous, Dean can’t figure out why.</p><p>“When do you think you’ll leave?” Cas asks. He sends him a quizzical look; they both know that Dean only has a few days left on the farm before he needs to leave to honour his contract.</p><p>“Before you do, I’d assume,” Dean responds without looking at him.</p><p>It’s quiet again. So quiet for so long that Dean’s skin starts to light up with the weight of the air around him. Words left unspoken; feelings left unshared hang heavy above their heads.</p><p>“And if you didn’t?” Cas asks suddenly.</p><p>“I’m sorry?” he asks back. Cas blanches his eyes become shifty; his breath turns sharp.</p><p>“Fuck it,” Cas says to himself, just barely loud enough for Dean to hear. “Tell me you don’t want me to go with you and I’ll leave on my own, live whatever life I can, spend my days with whoever deems me fit to be theirs. Tell me you want to put our farm behind you, never to look back on. Tell me you want to forget me, forget whatever we’ve spent the last weeks doing and I’ll let you.”</p><p>He speaks so quickly Dean can’t even interrupt. He can hardly process it, let alone respond. Relief makes its home in his chest before his ribs constrict around it. A few words is all it would take and Castiel would be his for as long as he would allow it. But what can Dean offer him, how can Dean be the person Cas deserves?</p><p>His eyes bore into Dean’s imploringly.</p><p>“Cas—I have nothing to offer you. There's no life to live if you're with me, you deserve a good life, with a family and a job that makes your ma proud of you. I’m no one Cas, I—”</p><p>“Tell me you don't want me,” Cas cuts in. “Tell me this was nothing to you. That's the only answer of no I’ll accept Dean, tell me and you can go off and never think twice about the last two months.”</p><p>There's a force about him that Dean hasn’t seen before. He doesn't think he can weasel his way out of this without giving Castiel what he’s demanding. It’d be so easy to lie, even if Cas didn’t believe it. An answer of no from him would be all Cas would need to go and live the life that Dean wants him to. But the lie tastes like poison before it’s even been said aloud.</p><p>All the air seems to have been sucked out of the barn, the silence of the farm around him hums as his nerves pick up again and again with every beat of his heart. He’s one for lying, always has been, yet this one refuses to be born so he sees no way around it. He closes his eyes, takes a steadying breath and talks to the floor.</p><p>“I want you, Cas. I don’t want to pretend,” he says around the thickness in his throat. Fear strikes him as the confession leaves his lips; so often the truth hurts more than lies ever can. He waits as his stomach sinks into the floor for Cas to respond, to laugh at him, to be disgusted. Why he expects it he doesn’t know. Cas was the one to broach this topic, Cas seems to want the answer Dean has been dying to give for weeks now. Still, he waits because a part of him will never believe he may get to have something good.</p><p>He hears the shifting moments before he flinches when a warm hand cups the side of his neck, the roughness of the worked and calloused fingers exacerbated by the small bits of dust and dirt that have pressed themselves into Cas’ skin. Even still the touch is gentle and soft and it settles something deep within his chest. His head is pulled up and the only thing he can see is the depth of Cas’ eyes, so dark in the low light they might as well be black. Still, they’re gorgeous, unbelievably so, bright with joy that Dean can’t fathom he’s created.</p><p>His eyelids slip closed again as Cas leans in to press a kiss to his parted lips. Without thinking, Dean wraps an arm around his shoulder pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. He chases Cas’ mouth when he breaks away but Cas holds him back.</p><p>“Pack, now. Be ready in twenty minutes by the stables.” Is all he says before he’s all but running from the barn.</p><p>He sits stunned for a few moments, the sound of the door closing gently reaches his ears before his body reacts. His chest tightens again but it’s not from fear anymore. Anticipation makes his blood run like fire in his veins. He kneels up on shaky legs grabbing what little he owns and tosses it into his bag, a moment's hesitation has him grabbing both the blanket and the two pillows that make up his bed.</p><p>Double checking that the money pouch and his pistol are both settled amongst his clothes and the pillows, he thanks his former self for grabbing his cleaned clothes before he went off to bed. The razor he’d been given, along with the rest of his items—though the razor is the only one of any real value—sits in the wash closet still but he doubts he’ll be in need of it on his journey.</p><p>Besides, he has more than enough money to buy one for himself if he ends up needing to. It’s odd to think he now has money enough not to fret over a left behind razor or an extra person on the trip.</p><p>Dean stands and looks around the barn. The saddle hook where Cas had caught him. The only stall that ever held an animal stands empty now, but he can remember so vividly how Remy had come to his aid in times of stress. The stray straw that Cas kicked up when he was nervous. The spot where he’d laid his head as he finally began to feel as though he could be safe.</p><p>The sound of Cas’ laughter still bounces against the wood, he still feels the soft touch of Cas’ hand on his face and just as it had before, it settles him again.</p><p>He’s not sure when it happened, but somehow this barn had turned into a makeshift home. One that he's oddly sad to leave. Dean grabs the lantern and hauls his pack up onto his shoulder, tucking the blanket under the same arm—suddenly quite grateful Jody provided him with transportation aside from Ringer’s saddle. He sweeps his eyes around the space again, a ritual that’s long been part of his process of leaving, and with a final breath, he walks through the door.</p><p>He makes his way to the stables, barely able to discern them from the landscape in the pitch dark of night but he stops as he passes the house.</p><p>Through an open window, he can see Cas crouched, back to him, next to a child asleep in their bed. It’s a bit hard for him to hear what Cas says to them but he thinks he hears murmured words of love and promises that this isn’t the last they’ll hear from him. Standing, Cas drags a hand down his face he leans in and presses a drawn-out kiss to their forehead. His hand rests on the top of their head and his fingers are threaded into their hair.</p><p>Through a half-formed sob Cas says, “Sweet dreams Hannah.” before he leaves the room. His shoulders tense once he's past the threshold and Dean can tell he’s trying not to turn back. His hand grips tightly onto the door frame before he moves away from it, disappearing from Dean’s sight.</p><p>His heart breaks for Cas, in all his years of moving around and never looking back, he’s never had to leave Sam behind. He’s not sure he has it in him to do what Cas is about to do. It nearly kills him to think about what it would be like to say goodbye to Sam. He just hopes Cas thought this all through properly.</p><p>He makes his way to the equipment shed. The gig sits right at the front of the shed so it's easy enough to grab. He wheels it slowly behind him with a hand on each of the shafts as he walks to the stables.</p><p>He leaves it outside the stables when he goes in. Ringer stands alert in his stall, curiosity piqued at his presence.</p><p>He’s not sure how long he has before Cas shows up so he runs through everything as fast as he’s able, making sure best he can that Ringer is ready for this trip. Dean has ridden him daily in preparation but he’s still worried for him. He secures the tie-ups and the reins checking placements as best he can without much light to go on. For a moment he debates taking a saddle but decides against it, no doubt Jody will have more than enough equipment for him once he’s there and he’s not keen on stealing from the Novak’s.</p><p>Ringer is fully done up a short while before Cas is making his way from the house. The heaviness in his shoulders is enough to tell Dean that he needs to ask Cas if he’s sure about this. His body is further weighed down by the cases in his arms. They are both far larger than Dean’s meager pack, he can’t begin to guess what Cas has stored in them. He has a blanket tucked under one of his arms, its bulk making it harder for him to carry what he has.</p><p>When he gets close enough, Dean reaches out and grabs the boxes from him. Cas stands still as Dean slides them beside his belongings under the gig's seat, grateful once again that Jody wrongly assumed that Dean would be packing more than he is.</p><p>He turns back and walks up to Cas, standing so close he can feel the heat from his body reach out and play along his skin. He catches Castiel’s eye with some difficulty, but before he can ask Cas possibly one of the most important questions of his life, he reaches forward and drags Dean in by the shoulder.</p><p>Cas’ arms wrap around him so tightly he’s stunned into stillness. With his head burrowed into Dean's neck, Cas releases shaky breaths. Without pausing to think if it's the right move, Dean winds his arms around Cas’ form, the answering hitch in Cas’ breathing tells him he chose correctly.</p><p>Moonlight plays with the hair Dean can just barely see at the back of Cas’ head, making his dark hair shine blue, shine silver.</p><p>He can't remember the last time he was hugged, though it was most likely when Sam left Dean to go off and make something of himself. Even still, he’s never been embraced this fiercely. Cas’ fingers ball against his shirt and he squeezes his arms in response, it's like they are using each other in order to tether them to this earth. In that moment all that matters is the two of them, grasping so tightly at what brings them comfort, and Dean never wants to let go.</p><p>He tucks his head against Cas shoulder, mirroring his position and just breathes. When he feels Cas release his shirt, he knows the moment has passed with no regard to his wish to live in it forever.</p><p>He doesn't go far though, instead of dropping his hands to his side, Cas runs them up the length of Dean's arms and cups either side of his face. Cas rests his forehead against Dean’s, his eyes are closed, his breathing is steadier but still breaks with the weight of all he’s just gone through.</p><p>He mirrors the action again, hoping to show Cas that he’s there, that he understands how hard it is to go through what he’s going through. Seeing no better or worse time he takes a breath, preparing for the likely possibility that Cas rethinks all of this and goes back to his family.</p><p>“Cas, are you sure you want to do this?” The words almost hurt leaving his mouth, giving Cas an out, one that would be easier to take than going through with this. One word could break him in a way he’s never let himself get close to allowing. “One word and you can turn back and stay with your family, your siblings, I want to make sure you don’t regret this, angel.” The term of endearment slips out as he thinks of what he and Cas could have if he chooses to go with Dean. It’s fitting, no doubt, but perhaps too soon, perhaps it’s too bold of him to use it.</p><p>Cas pulls back and looks him in the eyes. He searches them for some time trying to find who knows what, stumbling upon far more than Dean should probably allow him to see.</p><p>When he speaks it’s hardly above a whisper, but the force and conviction behind them is as loud as anything. “I’m sure.” With that, he draws Dean in again and drops a desperate kiss to his lips.</p><p>He lets Cas take the kiss where he wants, content to be pulled along in the emotions for as long as Cas deems necessary. He's left quite wanting when Cas pulls back after not even a minute.</p><p>He understands a moment later, they don’t have time to spend on such things while they still stand on the Novak’s land.</p><p>“I’ve said a final goodbye to all my siblings, I’m ready.”</p><p>The next few minutes are quiet, Cas settles himself into the gig’s seat moving in a way to avoid seeing the house one last time. He stops at his side and places a soft kiss to the back of his hand and then another to the skin of his inner wrist, a third onto the scar that decorates his forearm, before going back and triple checking everything.</p><p>Despite the town being in the direction they are facing; they need to turn around again to get to the road and avoid riding through the thick brush and forest that outlines the edge of the property. It means Cas will either see his house one more time or he’ll have to close his eyes.</p><p>Sliding into the right side of the carriage he offers a small smile to Cas who returns it in kind.</p><p>“We have to turn around again, I know I said not to look back, but technically this would be looking forward, so if you desire one final look at the house you can Cas. If not, you can close your eyes, or just stare elsewhere.” He gets a nod in return and allows Cas to choose the best option for himself.</p><p>As they pass the house Cas looks at it and Dean can only imagine what plays through his head as he does. The laughter of his siblings, the odd fights he had with Gabriel, the voice of his parents, the smell of the kitchen, the way the dust would swirl as it was caught in the yellow beams of sunlight that would stream through his bedroom windows. He doesn't ask and Cas doesn’t share.</p><p>A few seconds before absolutely necessary, Cas takes his eyes off the house and stares forward, his hand reaches for Dean, seeking comfort, seeking assurance that he made the right choice, Dean doesn’t know. But he’s happy to provide whatever Cas is after. He extends his elbow, both hands occupied with the reins and when Cas’ hand settles into the crook of it, he feels him release the tension held within him. He goes so slack Dean has half a mind to think that Cas shook off two decades of tension with that action.</p><p>As the farm disappears into the darkness behind them, Dean finds that the pull to watch it go isn’t as strong when there’s a future waiting for him.</p>
<hr/><p>Three days later they’ve stopped in or passed by five different towns, gathering minor supplies and food mostly for the days ahead where they'll be travelling without the guarantee of a town close enough to rely on. They take the time to stop in at a shop to buy Dean some new clothes, having only one set of work clothes that aren’t covered in blood isn’t going to cut it for much longer. For the first time in his life Dean owns not only work clothes but proper attire, fit for dinners or parties or just to impress people. He packs those away though, choosing—as Cas does—to wear his work clothes for the duration of their trip.</p><p>It feels odd to him that he’s become the person that he used to either try to steal from, bet against, or work for, during the few nights they’ve spent in the towns. Cas seems to not find it at all out of the ordinary. Then again this has more or less always been his life.</p><p>With the last town fading into the distance, plenty of food and supplies and Ringer ready for it, they head into three days of wilderness.</p><p>It's not lost on him that he and Cas will be sleeping next to each other in the upcoming nights. The towns they’d stayed in offered varying accommodations for the two of them, but only one had had a room with two beds in it so they slept apart. Even when they had been in the double, Dean hadn’t been able to gather the courage to slip from his into Cas’. Though they slept that night closer than they ever had, they were still so far apart.</p><p>As they travel on, Cas comes alive again, but he also withers. Dean never asked why Cas hadn’t wanted Gabriel to give him an answer about relaying letters, but he reckons it may have to do with the fact that if Gabriel refused, he never would have left and Castiel needed to leave.</p><p>Dean can tell that Cas is trying not to think about what the farm is like in his surprise absence. What the first morning was like when they all woke up and he wasn’t there anymore. When neither of them were there anymore. Did Cas elect to leave a note behind, or had he let it slip to Anael that he was leaving, did the youngest kids cry about their missing brother? Dean doesn’t know what it’s like to have someone disappear without explanation, he’s always been the one who vanishes. Thinking about it now he can’t help but wonder if anyone he’s left has wondered where he went.</p><p>Hours pass as they talk of this and that, stories of Dean’s time on the road, quips about the unsteady ground and Dean’s driving ability. He tries to keep the stories flowing to stop Cas from delving into the consequences of his actions. It’s not that Dean is afraid that Cas will suddenly want to go back, to return to the life he knows and loves. Although, if he did Dean would let him, it would break something inside him that he never knew he had to break, and it would raise the walls Cas spent weeks breaking down, but Dean would let Cas go.</p><p>No, it’s not that Dean is worried that Cas will leave, it's that he knows Cas would be so racked with guilt that it might kill him. Ever since his second night spent in Cas’ company, he’s known that Cas carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. Guilt follows him for every minor infraction or misstep, and if anything was going to cause guilt in him, it would be putting himself first, choosing what he wants, what he <em>needs</em>, over what others want.</p><p>So Dean keeps talking, until his throat gets rough with use and his brain fights to pull new stories, happy stories or at least non-traumatic ones, up to share.</p><p>He realizes after a brief moment of silence that they are so many miles from anywhere that there's nothing on the horizon to look to as a next destination.</p><p>He’s been in this odd liminal space more times than he can count but Castiel hasn’t and Dean’s not sure how he’s going to take the feeling that comes with being this far from anything that resembles civilization. There's something about it that makes you feel uniquely small, and alone even with another person beside you. Yet oddly grandiose, being the only person to be able to break the silence of the space, the only one to leave marks in the earth. It’s sobering and wonderful and terrifying all at once and Dean relishes in the oddness of the moments spent in places like this.</p><p>“Dean,” Cas starts, “there’s nothing around us… like at all,” he finishes in wonder.</p><p>“I know Cas, it’ll be like this for a while.”</p><p>“Could we stop?” Cas asks with an odd look at him.</p><p>“Why do you want to stop, are you feeling okay?”</p><p>“I want you to teach me to shoot now. You said that it was too loud to do before, but now no one’s around to hear us.”</p><p>“You sure Cas?”</p><p>“Would I be asking if I wasn't sure?” he responds with a cocked brow. And at least he’s acting more like himself again, Dean thinks.</p><p>“Alright then, let's teach you how to shoot.” Dean steers them into the line of trees that they’d been riding in the shade of and navigates far enough in that the noise from the shots will be dampened.</p><p>There's no one around, but the cracks are still loud, and Dean’s not exactly looking to injure his hearing.</p><p>They get out of the gig and Dean ties Ringer to a tree. He’s nervous for him, one thing they never went about was training for gunfire, so he decides to move far enough from Ringer that he’s still in sight but further from the sound.</p><p>It’s an interesting switch for them. Weeks spent with Cas teaching Dean to read and write and now the opposite, Dean teaching Cas. The skills are wildly different but Dean likes that he has something to teach Cas, it makes him feel as though he’s got knowledge—that isn't about horses—that's of some worth for once.</p><p>“Okay Cas first things first, some basic information about pistols and guns in general. You’ve got six bullets in the cylinder, each time you pull the hammer another locks into place to be fired. The kickback is enough to jolt me so it’ll send you spinning.” Cas sends him a withering look at the blatant over exaggeration but doesn't interrupt.</p><p>“You want to stand arms out in front of yourself, one to steady your aim and one to pull the trigger, all you do to aim is look down the barrel. Don’t be embarrassed if it doesn’t hit its mark. That’s about all you’ll need to know to shoot the thing so, I’ll show you the stance and fire off a few shots before you try your hand. And we should both be glad I decided to buy some extra ammo a few days ago.”</p><p>Cas sends him an odd look, partially amused, mostly confused.</p><p>“What?” he says making a face. “It’s better to be prepared isn’t it? We have more food than we need just in case, more water for Ringer, I just thought it might be smart to have some extra rounds.”</p><p>When Cas says nothing else, Dean steps up to a spot with a good clear sightline to a tree a decent ways off. He pops the cylinder out and spins it as part of an engrained routine before clicking it back and thumbing down the hammer. With the gun cocked he takes his stance making sure all the while that Cas is paying attention. He throws a look to Ringer and then to Cas to let him know the shot is coming.</p><p>His first shot hits the side of the tree, the cracking of wood splinters fly along with the bullet as it slices through the bark. The kickback grinds his shoulder into its joint and he thanks his lucky stars that he dislocated his non-shooting arm or it would have been far worse.</p><p>Ringer doesn’t like the sound of the shot if his protests are anything to go by, but he’s not trying to run off or losing all his composure so Dean counts that a win.</p><p>He lines up for another shot, pulls the hammer into place, and makes sure Cas knows it's coming again. This one hits closer to the center, the bullet lodging itself deep in the trunk. Quickly he cocks his pistol and fires a third shot, it lands similar to the second.</p><p>He looks to Cas who's watching with such intensity it stains his cheeks red.</p><p>“Cas come here a second,” Dean calls. “I’m going to reload the revolver so that you have a full six shots but I want you to stand as I am now, feel it out make sure your feet are stable, secure and I’ll make sure that it’s proper after the gun is done.” Cas’ cheeks are oddly flushed and his breathing is shallow, which would be a problem if they were shooting in serious circumstances but Dean supposes that it’ll be fine.</p><p>He walks back to the gig and digs around his bag for the rounds he’d purchased. He drops a few extra into his pocket before rolling the three bullets around his palm. The metal warms against his skin, it’s familiar in ways he doesn't want to think about.</p><p>Realizing that Cas should probably at least watch as Dean loads the cylinder he walks back with an amused smile on his face as he watches Cas shift and shuffle his feet repeatedly. It's endearing how much he wants to get this right.</p><p>Dean strides up next to him and flicks the revolver open, with deft fingers, he slides the three new bullets into their temporary homes. He gives the gun a once over while more of the inner workings are exposed before he spins the cylinder again and clicks it back into place. He looks up and sees that Cas’ eyes are trained on the gun in his hand and the flush has come back, stretching down his face to his neck and disappears down the back of his shirt.</p><p>He hands Cas the gun and watches as he fumbles with its weight.</p><p>“Heavier than it looks huh?” Dean asks with a smirk. Everyone's first time with a gun in their hands is the same, his too. Granted he was seven and his father started him with a rifle even earlier than that, but even when he was allowed to switch to a pistol the weight threw him.</p><p>“Much.” Is all he gets as a response and even the singular word sounds a bit strained. Cas clears his throat and holds the gun up, pointing it in the general direction of his target. He shifts some more, hands tensing on the handle, and holds his position to stabilize his shot.</p><p>When the shot rings out it clears the tree, straying so wide doesn’t lay a scratch on it. Dean schools his expression, no one is a crack shot the second they start shooting, but Cas still manages to be disappointed in himself.</p><p>“Shit that kickback is stronger than I thought it would be. How come it didn't take you back like it did me?”</p><p>“I knew it was coming, it won’t sneak up on you so much this time.” He motions to the tree, “Now c’mon line up another shot, and try to slow your breathing. The less your body shifts with each breath the steadier the shot will be.”</p><p>Cas raises the gun again and takes a few deep breaths, his finger plays along the barrel before it curls to rest against the trigger and Dean finds himself frozen watching it.</p><p>He watches as Cas’ palms grip against the butt of the gun and notices how his strength is so clear in the hold he places on the metal. Suddenly all Dean wants is for those hands to be using their power on him, to have them caress him as they currently caress his pistol.</p><p>His breathing turns shallow as Cas thumbs the hammer, his face heats when Cas tilts his head and his farm roughed hand squeezes back on the trigger. It lights him up in ways that send his thoughts into a spiral of want to see hands that are capable of being so gentle and kind wrapped around the unforgiving metal of a gun. Paired together it does things to Dean he doesn’t want to dissect.</p><p>Cas lines up again repeats his near sinful actions to Dean’s pistol and cracks off another shot.</p><p>If he'd been more present in the moment he could have told Cas that his form was the reason his shots were going wide. Not a single one had managed to hit the target yet and Dean could tell that Cas was getting annoyed with the lack of results.</p><p>With three bullets still in the gun, Dean decides to step in.</p><p>“Can I help? Your form with your hands is okay but your body is throwing off your shots.” He raises an eyebrow in a silent question and walks himself behind Cas when he gets a nod of assent.</p><p>He realizes what a terrible idea this is the second he’s in Cas’ personal space. His hands land on Cas’ hips to twist and tilt them slightly, lining his center over the middle point of his legs. His mind wanders as he grips the warm skin, a slow burn makes its way down his spine, his fingers stretch around the curve of his hip and rest gently on his hip bones.</p><p>Taking a steadying breath, he lifts an arm and reaches out to tuck Cas’ elbow into his side. His chest ends up flush with Cas’ back and every point of contact seems to light up and it's all he can do not to react. Though he can do nothing for the way his breathing changes or how his mind goes a bit out of focus with the warm skin of Cas’ neck mere inches from his lips.</p><p>He’s thrown back for a second to the first day Cas taught him how to write, when Dean’s form was wrong, he crowded into his space to correct it. Of the touch of his fingers against the soft skin of his inner wrist and how the air had seemed to crackle when Cas got so close.</p><p>“Is this better?” Cas questions after Dean has stopped manipulating his body for several seconds while he tried to get himself in control. It escapes his notice just how rough Cas’ voice is, and how shaky his breathing is.</p><p>“Ya just about,” Dean shifts Cas’ left hand just a bit. The movement causes him to completely encircle Cas with his arms and for a moment all he can do is close his eyes and breath, trying to ignore the heat that ignites low in his abdomen. “Okay you’re set, slow deep breaths, and you should be good.” He steps back.</p><p>Cas sends him a quick look before narrowing his focus on the tree. One, two, three steady breaths and Cas sends off the fourth shot. It hits the opposite side from Dean’s first but follows a similar pattern of damage done. He waits but a second before peeling off the fifth, and the sixth follows quickly after that. Both land in the tree with varying degrees of success, but he’s hit his target and if the smile on Cas’ face was any proof, he’s quite proud of himself.</p><p>“I didn’t do half bad,” Cas says with an appraising look at the tree trunk, splintered and broken apart, Holes have burrowed themselves into its flesh, proof of those gentle hands causing destruction. Beautiful destruction.</p><p>“No, you didn’t,” Dean replies breathily. Cas flips the cylinder out with an ease he shouldn’t possess, or perhaps Dean is too focused on his fingers to notice the hesitation and confusion in his actions. Cas looks at him expectantly, a request for more bullets written on his face.</p><p>He fishes them from his pocket, only four this time. Cas motions for them so he drops them into the outstretched palm.</p><p>He watches as Cas loads them, his fingers working over the small rounds, hands capable of so much, of bringing Dean to the brink and falling with him, of patching wounds and writing names for the first time, of gently cupping his face and manipulating the steel of a gun with an ease that Dean can’t help but shiver at. Once he’s loaded the gun, he clips the cylinder back into place. He studies it for a moment, runs his fingers along the barrel, all the way up and all the way down before resting it back in his palms.</p><p>Dean watches dry mouthed as Cas lines up another shot, his thumb pulls the hammer as his fingers slide across the metal to mimic the position Dean showed him earlier. Dean’s blood diverts its course low and he nearly lets out a moan but seals his lips around the sound before it has a chance to escape.</p><p>His mind is so singularity focussed on Cas’ hands he hardly hears the crack of the shot. Realizing that if he doesn’t get the gun out of Cas’ hands, he’ll likely embarrass himself, he reaches for it. Cas relents and hands the pistol over to Dean, the metal warm from his hands. He doesn't have to think about his actions as he lines up a shot, it’s good, mindless and just distracting enough to take his mind from the thoughts of dragging Castiel to the ground and letting Cas have his way with him.</p><p>Cock the gun, balance the weight, shift for the best sightline, hover over the trigger, pull. Once, twice, three times. The bullets sink into a trunk yards off from the one they’d been using. He used the three bullets left but he learned to always check and make sure that you had a proper count of your bullets so he checks the gun, an empty wheel, six spots waiting for metal and lead to take residence for a short time.</p><p>It feels good to shoot again, even better now that it’s for fun. </p><p>When he looks back at Cas his breath catches. His pupils are blown wide, his breathing is shallow and the flush is back.</p><p>A second later he’s glad the clip is empty as the gun falls to the ground, his fingers releasing it in favour of threading his fingers into Cas’ hair as the other man licks his way into Dean’s mouth.</p><p>The same hands that had distracted him so completely grip into his shirt and trail fire down the length of his back, it burns hot where one hand rests against his hip. Cas grinds against him and Dean can’t hold back the moan that slips from his lips.</p><p>He hadn’t tried anything the past couple of days, wanting to give Cas time to process and come to terms with what he did by choosing to follow Dean. Guilt and grief are tricky things and Dean hadn’t wanted to derail the process with something as inconsequential as sex.</p><p>But now, as Cas maneuvers them both to the ground, he doesn't have to worry if he’s pushing Cas into something he's not mentally ready for. He ends up on his back, the uneven ground digs into his shoulders but he can’t find it in him to care.</p><p>Cas ravages his mouth, gripping into his hair and manipulating his head as he pleases and Dean is more than happy to go along for the ride. The hand that's been twined into Cas’ hair moves to join the other still locked in place on Cas’ hip. He grinds Cas’ hips down against his rapidly filling cock and groans as sparks of pleasure shoot around his body.</p><p>Cas rolls his hips down on to him with so much force he sees stars behind his closed eyelids.</p><p>“Fuck Dean, no one should look that sinful handling a gun so competently, so assuredly,” Cas bites out as he traces his tongue around the vein in Dean’s neck. The cooling track it leaves makes him shiver, as do Cas’ words. “So beautiful, flawless. I should have known, everything about you is incredible.”</p><p>Heat washes over him with each of Cas’ words. Never has a lover been so intent on praising him and it’s making his head swirl as the sincerity hits him.</p><p>“It was you, shit Cas your fucking hands—drive me crazy,” he says as he slides his hands under Cas’ shirt to score his back. Marking him in the only way he can, if only he could get his mouth on the untouched expanse of his chest or hips, bite into the flesh and suck his claim onto the soft skin.</p><p>“My hands huh? You like thinking of them, pressed up against you, dragging you to the edge, holding you back, worshipping you. What about inside you Dean, do you ever think about that… because I do, all the time,” Cas whispers the rapturous words into his ear and his breath chokes out in short bursts.</p><p>A low whine crawls its way out of his throat as he thinks about how Cas’ fingers would feel opening him, holding his hip and thigh bruising finger marks into the flesh as one, two, three fingers stretch him torturously slowly.</p><p>“God yes, fuck please Cas,” he grits out as waves of lust strike him again and again at the prospect of finally having Cas where he’s desired him since the first week he knew him.</p><p>“Not here Dean, soon, but not here,” Cas soothes with a smirk.</p><p>Dean’s gone from wanting to desperate in a few short minutes and he couldn’t give a damn that they are outside, he needs Cas. Now. He’s strung tighter than a bow and Cas is only just dipping his hand below his trousers.</p><p>His moan is cut off when, right after Cas gets a hand around him, he squeezes the smallest bit at his base.</p><p>“Shall we see how fast I can bring you to the edge with just my hand, think about it Dean, picture how my hand looks around you. Do you like it? Why don’t you look; see how gorgeous your cock looks wrapped in my fist.” The bastard is cocky as all getup and even worse, he has every reason to be.</p><p>“Ah fuck,” Dean gasps. He scrabbles with the hem of Cas’ shirt and groans in frustration when his lust addled brain can’t think through to the end of the action fast enough to know that with Cas’ hand in use, he’ll never get to damn thing off.</p><p>Luckily Cas figures it out with him and rips his shirt over his head as he shoves Dean’s up and under his arms. Dean reaches up and threads his fingers into Cas’ hair pulling him down on top of him. The fluttering in his chest at the skin on skin contact is cut off as Cas mouths his way to Dean’s lips. He bites down on Cas’ bottom lip and seizes the opportunity to seal their lips together again, sliding their tongues together the first chance he gets. He gets lost in the kiss, lost in the noises he pulls out of Cas, gets drunk on the feeling.</p><p>Fire spreads down his stomach as Cas traces his way back down to the waist of his pants. On instinct he raises his hips, he tears his mouth away as his head is thrown back when the length of his erection ruts alongside Cas’ matching arousal.</p><p>He continues canting his hips as Cas shuffles both of their pants down to free their cocks. The first thrust of their cocks against each other has him seeing stars, and if the ragged groan that is pulled from Cas’ chest is any indication it feels just as good for him. He winds a leg over Cas’ back shifting him even closer. The opposite hand reaches down to run red lines along his back.</p><p>His hand wraps around both of them as best it can and adds to the quickly overwhelming stimulation as they thrust against each other.</p><p>Dean keeps sending his hips up to try to get Cas to go back on his stupid ‘not here’ rule. He’s not as sly as he thinks he is because Cas stretches a finger down to press against his entrance. Dean feels his breath being punched from his lungs; he <em>needs</em> Cas.</p><p>“Cas god would you—please just euh, Castiel,” Cas shudders above him and puts pressure behind his finger again making his eyes slip closed again. The fingers that are splayed against his hip dig into the skin and he knows that he’ll have a set of small crescents decorating the skin for some weeks.</p><p>“Fuck.” Is all Cas can manage to respond with.</p><p>A smug smirk finds its way onto his face, what had at one point been an interesting coincidence just became the ticket to getting what he needs.</p><p>“Castiel, mmh please Casti—” his pleas die half-formed as Cas’ hand shoots up and wraps around his throat applying just enough pressure to be a clear warning. His fingers flex, pressing harder into his skin, causing his breathing to shallow and his eyes roll back at the fuzzy sparks that light up along his body. A moan makes its way from his body and a spurt of precome rolls down the underside of his cock as Cas’ fingers hold steady against the vulnerable skin of his neck.</p><p>Cas’ eyes light like fire as he stares down at Dean. The thrill of his position coupled with Cas still grinding against him and stroking them together sends him careening towards the edge faster than anything has before.</p><p>“You think you can goad me Dean? That you can say my name like the most unholy of prayers and I'll bend to your will?” Cas grits putting more pressure behind both of his hands. “Answer me Dean.”</p><p>There's no right answer but he nods regardless. The way Cas is saying his name is a dark promise and it pulls a low moan from his chest.</p><p>“It almost worked too, but no Dean when I fuck you for the first time it’s not going to be on the ground. I’m going to wait until I can have you in every way I’ve imagined since the first moment I laid my eyes on you.”</p><p>Each word that drips from Cas’ mouth onto his heated skin inches him closer and closer to the precipice. The rough scrape of his stubble on his neck matches the rough almost too dry strokes on their cocks. Spitting into his palm he reaches down and completes the circle Cas’ hand had begun.</p><p>A broken shout makes its way from Cas’ chest as he bites down on the juncture of Dean’s neck and shoulder. The pain ignites his every sense and it’s all he can do to hold back for even a few more seconds. His back arches off the ground, his hips roll as best they can up into the channel of their joined fists.</p><p>He loses his rhythm soon, the myriad of sensations becoming too much for him to handle. Dean gasps and claws along Cas’ back scoring the skin, leaving lines of red in his wake. He can’t help the odd pride that overwhelms him to know his claim is left on Castiel, knowing how red and marked Cas’ back must be by now.</p><p>Cas scrapes his teeth against the indents he left on the base of his neck and like a gunshot, his climax hits him. His lungs give up as he coats both of them with his release, his head tipped back with a silent scream.</p><p>Cas doesn't slow, chasing his own release with a fevered determination. Fire sings through his veins as Cas starts to whisper filthy things into his ear as he pants, each breath tickling the shell of his ear as it pushes past. Another spurt of come shoots from his softening cock and a sob makes its way from his mouth.</p><p>“Cas,” Dean whines as tremors rock his body each thrust pushing him deliciously to overstimulation.</p><p>Cas drops his head against Dean’s collarbone as he locks up above him. Twin whimpers sound from them as Cas’ spend mixes with Dean’s on their bare torsos.</p><p>Cas is shaking above Dean as he lowers his weight fully on him, though he soon shifts down to lie beside Dean on the dirt.</p><p>Their breathing begins to settle and their come starts to dry on his chest. A small glob of it begins to slip down the curve of his stomach, trekking a cool path towards his back. Without thinking he stops it with his fingers collecting it on the pads and through a mix of burning desire and general curiosity he acts on an impulse he’s had for weeks.</p><p>He brings the fingers up to his mouth and licks their mixed come from them; it's odd but not wholly unappealing and he finds himself sighing at the taste. Cas lets out a ragged groan beside him and Dean peers down at him to see Cas fixated on his mouth.</p><p>Cas’ eyes flash to his and on another groan, he says, “You’re going to be the death of me Dean.”</p><p>He lets out a short peel of laughter and lays a hand in Cas’ hair, threading the strands through his spread fingers and allows himself a moment to relish in the softness of this little bit of the world they carved for themselves in the midst of a couple hundred trees and a bored horse.</p><p>He doesn’t allow himself to second guess, craning his head down and pressing a gentle kiss to Castiel's forehead and when Cas looks up, he lets himself get pulled into a chaste kiss.</p><p>“You lied earlier,” Cas says. “Back on the farm you said you were a decent shot; you severely downplayed your abilities.” He huffs, falsely indignant.</p><p>“My apologies,” Dean laughs, feeling oddly light.</p><p>“What’s going to happen when we get to Jody’s?” Cas asks once his head is resting on his shoulder again.</p><p>Confused, he asks, “What do you mean?”</p><p>Cas is quiet a moment. When he does speak Dean can hear that he’s struggling with something.</p><p>“With us. What's going to become of us when we get to her farm? Will it be like it was, only being able to be together after the sun’s gone down, using nightfall and supper routines as a cover. How do we even know she’ll allow me on the property. And if she does, how do we go about everyone else there? I wouldn’t think it unlikely that the second you step a foot past her border any woman in a ten-mile radius will try to get you to court them. What are we to do when that happens? We didn't think this through Dean we got caught up in the moment and now… now I—”</p><p>“Cas, angel stop.” Dean would laugh at how off base Cas is, but he’s starting to panic and there’s no way he’s going to let that continue. “Jody doesn't mind us being together, hell she called me out of my feelings for you the first day she met me. Caught me staring at you so often there was no explanation but the one she landed on. She assured me that I didn't have to worry, and while I don't know how far this information is spread, Jody seems to have grabbed herself a woman to call her own. We won't have to pretend Cas. We won't have to hide, though we may have to get in the habit of being quieter,” he finishes with a cocky grin. He’s sure that no one wants to hear anyone have sex regardless of who it’s with. And he’s not sure what his boarding accommodation will be like so it’s probably best to plan for the worst. Lord knows he’s been doing that all his life; he should be damn good at it by now.</p><p>The relieved smile Castiel gives him is bright enough to light up even the darkest corners of him, reaching all the way to the recesses of his mind. He can’t help but think that maybe it was worth living through all the worst if it led him here.</p>
<hr/><p>They don’t stay much longer, the daylight wanes as the sun descends west and neither wants to get stuck making camp when it's already dark. They make it a few more miles and set up, Dean builds a small fire, Cas manages to cook halfway edible food and they wear matching playfully fond smiles when Cas roots through his stuff and retrieves his flask.</p><p>It seems like a lifetime ago that Cas shared it with him that first night, he can hardly wrap his head around the fact that it's barely been more than two months since he packed up and tried to make a life for himself somewhere else. No one could have guessed that his life would change so completely, least of all him.</p><p>It’s different that night, and the night after, everything feels softer, calmer. Like for once, Dean can bask in the glory of a peaceful night. One spent outdoors no less. He still sleeps with one hand under his pillow, fingers a twitch away from his gun, but his other hand is always against Cas. When Cas curls up behind him their hands rest entwined on his stomach. When he tucks himself into the open space at Cas’ side his hand rests over Cas’ heart. If Cas mirrors that position Dean rests his hand on his hip. Never before has he had such tenderness in any of his past relationships—if you could even call them that—never before had he craved it so much.</p><p>He’d always wanted this but he’d never allowed himself to focus on it too intently. But now, with their makeshift tent under the gig, he can’t even imagine leaving to do anything but stoke the fire to keep them warm, and even then, no part of him ever stops touching Cas.</p><p>It's amazing as much as it’s terrifying but he’s stopped fighting it. He knows what he wants, and he knows he can have it.</p><p>Their last night out in the middle of nowhere sees them half laying half sitting up beside each other against the tree behind them. Their fingers are interlocked as they lay in Cas’ lap.</p><p>The fire crackles and sends sparks into the night sky. The embers seem to move like water and the ash that falls reminds him of falling petals. It’s serene. Everything seems to move slower; the dull hum of night provides the perfect accompaniment to their quiet conversations.</p><p>He’s tucked himself close against Castiel’s side as they stare up at the stars that paint the sky into a portrait he’ll never be able to properly understand.</p><p>He never thought he’d find a person he would like doing this with except for Sam but dammit if Cas doesn't shatter every construct he’s ever thought into existence just by breathing.</p><p>Cas murmurs something into his hair as he peppers light kisses against his scalp. He pulls back to look at him hoping to glean something just from his face but all he can pick out is a gentle fondness.</p><p>“What’d you say?” If his voice is softer than it's ever been, he can’t be held accountable, there's something about Cas that settles him, has from the start.</p><p>“I said the stars remind me of you, your freckles more specifically. There are so many of them, I could spend hours connecting them, making new shapes, finding a meaning behind them. Just as I could the stars in the night sky. There's scarcely a thing more beautiful than the wonder that is the universe painted onto your skin, Dean.”</p><p>He’s stunned silent, his skin blushing deeply and covering those freckles that Cas adores so much. He tries to look away, shy away from the attention but Cas doesn't let him. He cups his hands on either side of Dean’s face and manipulates his head as he pleases. Drawing it forward he lays soft, warm kisses to his forehead, down his temple, along the hill of his cheekbone, over the bridge of his nose. Tracing his way along Dean’s freckles, leaving him breathless and causing him to blush more under the intense attention Cas is giving him.</p><p>He knows Cas is kissing his scars too, it's impossible not to with the amount of skin he's covering with the gentle press of his lips. He wonders if they add to the way Cas sees his body. He can’t imagine that they wouldn’t with how much attention Cas is spending on the skin behind his ear. The thought makes his breath catch in his throat. No one has ever really loved his scars, put up with them sure, ignored them even. But Cas isn't doing that.</p><p>“Cas?” It’s barely more than a whisper, possibly a prayer, definitely a plea. Though for what he doesn't know.</p><p>“You’re everything Dean, and still you are so much more.” Cas lays a final kiss to his lips. This one is slow, lingering, dizzying. It might have been his play all along but no part of Dean can seem to argue against what Cas has just said. Instead, he shuffles down, surrounds himself with Cas’ body and allows himself to drift as the hum of the night plays on.</p><p>Dawn creeps in around them, bathing everything around them in soft yellow light. It filters into their little camp, though one would be hard-pressed to call it such in good faith considering it consists of the two of them huddled together under the gig where it sits parked, Ringer a few yards away tied up to a tree.</p><p>Dean’s on the cusp of sleep when Cas wakes beside him and tugs him in by his middle and burrows his face into the warmth of Dean’s neck. He barely feels the press of Cas’ mouth on the blade of his shoulder in his sleep addled state. Even still the tenderness of the moment reaches his understanding and though still mostly asleep, he turns. Cas hums as Dean rests his head against his collarbone.</p><p>“Morning, sunshine,” he says in a gravelly rasp. The term of endearment makes his heart flip in his chest and Cas’ sleep rough voice makes a shudder run down the length of his spine.</p><p>“Sunshine, huh?” he can’t help but ask, his voice is thick with sleep and as he looks up, he sees a small smile on Cas’ face.</p><p>“Mmm? Ya sunshine. Why, you don't like it?” Cas looks a bit embarrassed so Dean quickly assures him.</p><p>“No no I like it, I like it a lot.” It’s a short admission but still, by the end of it, they have matching flushes on their skin. No one’s ever given him a name like that, and he’s too content to act as though he doesn’t love it.</p><p>Cas sends him such a pleased smile that Dean feels the flip all over again. How he can make someone like Cas this happy is beyond him and he finds himself smiling in return because how can he not when there's so much fondness in his eyes.</p><p>Cas leans in close, resting their foreheads together and conspiratorially whispers, “Good, because I really didn’t want to change it.” into the scant space between them.</p><p>Dean huffs a short laugh before Cas dips in to seal their lips in a short kiss.</p><p>“Come on, I want to get to the next town before nightfall, I'm desperate for a proper wash,” Cas says as he makes to stand up, crawling backwards on his knees to get himself out from under their carriage.</p><p>Dean has to agree with him, three days of damp cloths and some soap has made him long for even a basin out behind a tavern to clean in. He doesn't even care if the water is as cold as hell as long as it’s not poured from a canteen, he’ll be happy.</p><p>They eat and pack quickly, the promise of civilization driving them.</p><p>Hours later they stop to water Ringer and check the map Cas had thought to buy. They have hours to go still but there's no doubt they’ll make it to town with plenty of time to bathe.</p><p>Dean’s packing up what few supplies he’d brought out to give Ringer a once over, there’s no clear system to any of his packing so he’s putting things wherever they fit. He’s retrieving his riding gloves from his bag, about to unstring Ringer from the tree he’s tied to when something in the air changes.</p><p>The serenity that has been with them for days dissipates in seconds and, without even realizing it, his shoulders have tensed. He listens but little in the way of noise makes its way to his ears. It's as though even the animals know to hide.</p><p>If Dean knows anything it's that things are always quiet before something bad happens. A calm before the storm.</p><p>Cas seems none the wiser, calmly going about some task or another. He checks left and right as imperceptibly as he can and his stomach drops while his heart makes a new home in his throat.</p><p>Still a ways off, two men approach, the sun makes mirages on the ground in front of them and Dean can’t get a good read on them because of it.</p><p>Intuition tells him that they are as far from harmless as can be. His hand brushes his reloaded pistol and he weighs his options. Brandish the gun now and hope to scare them off or see what they want. Perhaps it's nothing more than a ration of food or directions—though the prickling on his neck shows that he knows how unlikely that is.</p><p>Trying his best to conceal it, he tucks the gun into the back of his pants. He’s never been one to use a holster before and with the trepidation he still feels he's not sure if having one would benefit him now or if it would escalate a situation that he needs to not have escalate.</p><p>“Cas… we seem to have some visitors,” Dean says quietly. Calmly walking himself between the men and Cas. “Don’t interact with them, please, I don't know what they want. I’m going to take care of it, just stay here, with Ringer. Keep him calm.”</p><p>Panic slices into him, just as it always did when there was a chance Sam was going to be put in harm's way. The confusion on Cas’ face doesn't help the matter in the slightest. It’s only when that confusion turns to worry that he turns.</p><p>
  
</p><p>One of the men, the shorter one, steps forward, though his companion isn’t far behind.</p><p>“Afternoon gentlemen,” the man says. His eyes shine in a sickening way. A trick of the light makes them gleam yellow in the afternoon sun.</p><p>“Afternoon,” Dean nods. “What can we do for you?”</p><p>His reactionary nature screams at him to do something as the taller of the two walks past him, closer to the gig. Closer to Cas.</p><p>“Not much at all,” the taller man says. His voice is an uncomfortable nasally drone that sends a cold shiver down Dean’s spine and sets his teeth on edge.</p><p>Dean turns minutely, keeping an eye on the man in front of him while trying to search out Cas.</p><p>The man he’s facing has a disturbing smile on his face, sickly sweet but darkened with mal intent, worry curls in his stomach. Nothing about this sits right with him.</p><p>“I was wondering, and bear with me,” the seemingly yellow eyed man says, “what we could do to possibly acquire a few of your supplies. See we’re without horses, without provisions and we are still miles from the nearest town. Certainly, two upstanding citizens such as yourselves could find it in your hearts to lend some help?”</p><p>Dean starts at that, he doesn't trust these men anymore than he had before but if all they want is a few coins he thinks that chances are, they’ll be able to walk away from this without issue.</p><p>“While I can’t do much in the way of most of what you’ve asked for, I can spare a few coins, aid you in your travels from here on.” God, he hopes they take the offer.</p><p>“Hmm yes, that would suffice,” the nasally man drawls. The hairs all along his arms prick up with the words.</p><p>He goes to his pack, walking past Cas and catching his eye but only barely before Cas’ eye catches something. He grabs a small bag of coins, separate from the one Jody gave him, filled with the money he hadn’t been able to send to Sam while on the farm.</p><p>He blames the anxiety threatening to choke him for why he doesn't notice their money bag out in the open.</p><p>He turns back around and holds out the pouch, “This is just about all we have left fellas; it should do you just fine for the rest of your travels.”</p><p>“Wait,” Cas says looking at Dean quizzically. Dread washes his body ice cold. He doesn't have a chance to stop him before he says, “We have more here,” and reaches towards the bag Jody left with him.</p><p>The bag jangles as he lifts it. Why couldn't he have left it where it sat. Dean watches as the men's eyes light up and immediately, he knows this is going to go south.</p><p>“Ah yes but remember we need that to make sure that we can make it to the west coast,” he lies, sending pleading glances to Cas, begging him to play along. “You won’t be able to make it to your sister's wedding if we don’t have that money. What we’ve given these two men is certainly enough to aid them.” His pistol burns against his waist. It’s still too early to draw but if Cas doesn’t go with the story he’s just spun it will become a necessity sooner rather than later.</p><p>He makes to grab the bag away from Cas, and away from the man, but before he can the gaunt man snaps his hand out and snatches the pouch.</p><p>“My my, isn’t there just a pretty penny or two in here?”</p><p>Anger begins to outweigh the wariness in his bones as he flicks through the money.</p><p>“You have more than enough already, give the bag back.”</p><p>“He won't be doing that,” the other man pipes up walking closer. “We should be so kind as to take this weight off of you for the remainder of your trip, surely you’ll be able to make do without it.”</p><p>The man makes to leave but Dean steps up to him. He’s only barely stopping himself from flying into a blind rage at the despicable actions of these two. It nauseates him to know that even a year ago this was something he might have done.</p><p>“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” he warns, voice low and far more threatening than he’s had cause to use in months. In his periphery he sees Cas flinch and the dread is back, turning his stomach inside out. “Return the money and walk away now or you’ll live to regret it.” When all he gets in return is a pair of matching smug smiles his hand twitches towards his gun.</p><p>They don’t believe him, they don’t know him at all or where he’s come from, what he’s done. He could lay them flat in mere seconds. Likely faster than it would take for both return fire. But he doesn't need to yet, and the last thing he wants is to put Cas in danger by escalating a situation that doesn’t call for it.</p><p>“And how's that boy?” The shorter one taunts. “You look like a bit of trouble but two against one, tsk tsk I doubt even you are stupid enough to take on those odds.”</p><p>Red seeps into his vision, but he makes himself stay calm.</p><p>“You don’t want to fuck with me, I’ve dealt with far worse than the likes of you two and I’m not opposed to doing it again.” Dean clenches his fist at his side as he looks between the two, making a point to stare into both their eyes. His fingers itch for his gun, if only to show them that he hasn't been putting on a front.</p><p>The man beside him grins, his teeth disgusting colours of yellow and brown. He makes to get the bag again, willing to use force if necessary but he’s shoved back. Before he can get himself righted again and into a position to strike, pain blooms along his cheek.</p><p>He stumbles back and blood floods his mouth. He hears Cas gasp behind him and twin chuckles from the thieves. Blood trails down his face in warm streams, he pays it no mind, what’s another scar really at this point.</p><p>Before he can get his arms up to fight another blow lands squarely on his face. He feels his nose crunch, breaking apart, against the strike, the sound of it replays in his head as blood streams from it. His eyes well so much and so quickly that he can do nothing to stop the third punch as it lands on his jaw.</p><p>“Alastair that's enough,” yellow eyes says, clearly displeased with the violence.</p><p>It makes sense, the worse off Dean is left the more questions will be asked. Despite this, a malicious half-smile forms as Dean spits blood onto the ground.</p><p>It does almost nothing, his mouth fills with blood in seconds and he resigns himself to swallow it.</p><p>“He’s not a threat, he can’t even fight back,” the man laughs wickedly. “Ahh I’m not living to regret a thing boy, run along now before I decide to relieve you of the rest of your things as well.”</p><p>They turn to leave talking and laughing with each other, if he thought he had a chance he’d be running after them but he knows it's better to cut his losses. He could always kill them but the mess of that is too great if he doesn't really need to.</p><p>“Dean, are you okay?” Cas asks, terror so audible in his voice that it turns his stomach. “Dean?”</p><p>“I’m fine Cas, let's just keep going.” His jaw protests as he speaks, sharp stabs of pain rush through his head. He doesn't mean to sound angry; he doesn't mean to shut Cas out but he can feel it happening, one brush with something so reminiscent of his old life and he's slipping back into that other version of himself.</p><p>“Dean please, shouldn't we do something?” he implores.</p><p>“No Cas! We do something and we both might end up dead. We move on and forget this ever happened.” He can’t breathe through the blood in his nose or see all that well either. His blood trickles down his jaw onto his neck, and the look on Cas’ face tells him how bad he must look.</p><p>“We can talk to someone in town, we have a name, we can report it,” Cas says, his voice getting higher and louder as he pleads.</p><p>It takes all of two seconds for Dean’s blood to run cold again, a stone drops in his chest when, across the distance, Cas’ words land on the ears of their assailants. They both stop dead, neither having realized the slip until then. Dean hadn’t either and by god does he wish Cas was just a bit less perceptive.</p><p>The taller one spins his gun already drawn, not a second later the ground beneath them uproots as a bullet strikes into it. If it was meant as a warning shot Dean doesn’t listen to the threat. He draws his pistol as pain slices through his arm, he bites out a shout and looks down quickly. A decent sized chunk of his skin and muscle has been shot clean off his bicep, the edges are torn, muscle trying to hold on but failing, and blood pours down his arm. Licking hot trails down towards his fingers eager to drip off into the dirt.</p><p>The pain blinds him for a second but another shot rings out and a cut off scream filters through the haze of his pain. He had thought for a moment that he had been the one that screamed. When he turns, he wishes it had been him.</p><p>Cas stumbles backwards, blood blooming a dangerous red against the fabric of his shirt, his face is drawn with pain, with shock. It takes only a split second of deafening terror for Dean to act. Ignoring the pain the wound on his arm is making as he moves (of course the bastards hit his shooting arm) he raises his gun and with absolutely no hesitation, he fires until the men fall, collapsing upon themselves as their blood mixes into the dirt.</p><p>He can't remember the last time he took a life with so little thought. He feels no remorse, no guilt as their groaning stops.</p><p>His mind is thrown as he hears the small shaky gasps that Cas is releasing.</p><p>He runs over to where he’s slumped over on his side. When he rolls him onto his back his eyes are fluttering, barely staying open.</p><p>“Cas. Cas! Hey angel you gotta stay with me okay?” he pats Cas’ face a couple times before running his hand through his hair, pushing the dampened strands off his forehead. His skin is turning pale as the blood pumps through the opening that’s made its home in his shoulder. “Cas <em>please</em>.”</p><p>His heart is in his throat as Cas’ eyes focus on him, the small smile that flits across his mouth seems to stab him through his chest. Cas might die, he might die because he didn’t act faster. It’s his fault, Cas is bleeding out on the ground and it’s all his fault.</p><p>“Dean.” His voice is rough. How was it only hours ago that a voice just like that was whispering in his ear a name that lit him up from the inside. Cas coughs through a short laugh, “I got shot.” His brows screw up against the pain as Dean pulls his shirt from the bullet wound.</p><p>“Please tell me you have something that I can help this with. A cloth or something.”</p><p>“The smaller chest, under some of the clothes.” Dean shoots a glance to the gig; the box is sitting on the footboards.</p><p>“You better stay awake Cas; I swear to god.” Cas manages to roll his eyes which must be a good sign.</p><p>He grabs the entire chest and hauls it over to Cas’ side. He doesn’t even notice the pain in his arm anymore.</p><p>Throwing the top open he shoves the clothes to the side and chokes on a sob of relief.</p><p>“You stole from your Ma?” he asks incredulously as some of the fear in his chest dissipates. At best he’d been hoping for a clean shirt and instead, he got gauze, that same wash they used on his injuries and bandages.</p><p>“Mm hmm, you’re accident prone, I had to make sure I could take care of you if you got hurt,” Cas says with a pained teasing smile. He leans down and captures Cas’ lips with his, acutely aware that this might be the last time he can do it. Tears spring into his eyes but he blinks them away fervently.</p><p>“Please try to stay awake angel,” he pleads again.</p><p>“I’ll try my best, sunshine.” A dopey smile and a fond gaze take over his paling face.</p><p>Another stab to his chest has him choking back a sob.</p><p>Dean sets to work. He grabs the scissors and cuts Cas out of his shirt. Lead fills his veins when he sees that the bullet tore straight through the top of his shoulder. It’s a better scenario than if the bullet had stayed in his body but now he has two wounds to contend with.</p><p>He wipes and wipes to get an unobscured look at the mangled flesh. His hands shake as he works getting covered in Cas’ blood with each pass if the cloth. His own blood drips down his arm, mixing with the mess of Cas’ but it doesn't even get a moment of his attention.</p><p>The entrance wound is decently clean, a frayed edged circle that’s a bit more than half an inch in diameter, and the exit wound, while larger, is better than some he’s dealt with. Still, his stomach churns at the sight.</p><p>Cas’ skin is blanching further and his eyes are fluttering closed again as he tries to talk to keep himself awake.</p><p>He works faster. He pours the antiseptic onto the wound and Cas grits his teeth in pain, moaning feebly. He rolls him and washes the exit wound. He douses a shirt in the liquid and stuffs it under Cas’ shoulder to keep it from touching the ground again. His hands shake, blood pours. He works faster.</p><p>He looks up as the mumbling stops and sees Cas’ eyes slip closed, abandoning his shoulder he starts to panic for real.</p><p>“Cas! No no no come one don’t do this to me.” His hand reaches up to feel for a pulse. His fingers leave trails of Cas’ blood (and his own) along his neck. He hardly registers the beating through the rushing in his ears and the fear that threatens to overwhelm him, but it’s there. He has no frame of reference as to what a heartbeat should feel like so he takes his own, ignoring the fact that he’s spreading Cas’ blood on his neck as well. Cas’ is far slower than Dean’s but Dean reckons that’s because his must be fast.</p><p>“You better not fucking die!” he growls, panicking. “I can’t fucking lose you, I just—please—I can’t.” He blinks tears from his vision, one or two trail down his cheek mixing with his own blood. The salt should hurt his cut but he can barely feel his own injuries.</p><p>His ears ring, his blood rushes through his body, there’s no outside world to him anymore. Everything fades out. The ground around them, the noises Ringer keeps making, wholly displeased with what’s gone on here, the exhaustion that seeps into his bones, it all disappears.</p><p>Tunnel vision takes over and all he can see is Cas and blood and grey lips that were once so pink.</p><p>Cas’ head lolls as Dean moves him. Vomit rushes to his throat and he swallows it down. It lolls again and he blinks away the tears, so many tears.</p><p>Dean works until both sides of Cas’ shoulder are dwarfed by the fabric and gauze; the pads pressed tight against the holes soaked in antiseptic.</p><p>With nothing else to do Dean scoops Cas into his arms and carries him to the carriage. He packs everything up again, stuffing clothes under Cas head and upper back to make him comfortable and to keep his shoulder elevated. He drapes a shirt best he can over Cas’ torso.</p><p>He's crawling into the seat, rooting around in their bags for the flask, knowing that if—<em>when</em> Cas wakes up he’ll want a nip or four of the whiskey, when, in his periphery he sees the two men. A second later he’s jogging over to their bodies. One of them—Alastair—landed face up, his blank eyes staring unseeing into the sky.</p><p>He hadn't wanted to kill them, not really, but they’d left him with no choice. Now he just hopes they can put enough distance between them and the two dead men on the road before someone finds them. Not wasting any more time he grabs their money from in between their bodies and returns to Cas.</p><p>He rides in suffocating silence, his chest seems to implode in on itself with each breath he manages to take, every time he looks over to or checks on Cas the pit inside him grows deeper, ready to swallow him forever. They ride for five hours before Cas comes to beside him.</p><p>A part of him has shut down in the wake of the incident and everything he does seems to be mechanical, as though he’s separated from his body, going through the motions but not actually doing them.</p><p>Cas apologizes so often he feels like he’ll be sick if he hears how sorry he is one more time. How could Cas be sorry when all of this was <em>his</em> fault. He laughs bitterly to himself, he thought he could be a good person, but here he is again, two more murders to his credit and responsible once again for someone he—someone he cares about getting hurt, almost dying. Cas has nothing to be sorry about and if he could form any words that carried any emotion, he would tell Cas that. But all he can manage is noncommittal noises and ‘rest Cas’ as they travel on.</p><p>Whenever he looks over at Cas he’s staring back with a hurt and saddened expression and each time he’s faced with it, it tears his heart in two all over again. God Cas doesn't deserve to be stuck with someone like him. Not when all he does is hurt Cas. Even him not doing anything is hurting him.</p><p>He takes Cas straight to the clinic and offers to pay double for Cas to be seen. The physician assures him that won’t be necessary and takes Cas to a back room to be worked over. Dean paces the length of the vestibule for an hour as Cas is being taken care of, the other patrons send him wary looks the entire time but he couldn't care less what they think. He knows he’s probably scaring at least some of them. He’s got blood all over himself, Cas does too.</p><p>When Cas comes back—his shoulder far more expertly wrapped and body rinsed of the blood—Dean holds the physician's gaze as he pays an extra half on top of the bill, hoping it’s enough to buy his silence. When he catches sight of Dean’s wound, he insists on wrapping it at the very least to avoid infection.</p><p>Half an hour later his arm is wrapped up securely, stinging and throbbing after the attention it was paid and Dean is driving them to an inn, now devoid of the blood that clung to him.</p><p>He sets Cas up in his room and leaves to let him fall asleep. There's not a single part of him that can release the tension that’s found its home in every nook and cranny of his body and mind.</p><p>He barely sleeps that night, and when he does it’s propped up outside Cas’ room, waking at every whisper and every creaking floorboard.</p><p>Before Cas wakes up, he heads to the clinic again and stocks up on whatever he thinks they’ll need. If the woman at the desk looks at him concernedly, he pays her no mind. He catches sight of himself in the mirror the clinic has set up, his jaw is blooming into a deep purple, bound to continue getting worse for the next few days, the cut on his cheekbone sports a bruise of its own and as he looks at his nose he curses, it’s skewed to the side and is swelling, a small bruise has made its home on his inner eye. When he attempts a smile at the clerk his jaw clicks, and he just knows this will be one of those injuries that sticks around for years.</p><p>When he gets back—with breakfast in tow—Cas is up, tearing around the room, pacing and swearing up a storm. When he catches sight of Dean, food in hand, he stops and drops his right hand from where it had been gripping into his hair with a heavy exhale.</p><p>He doesn't know what’s caused the distress, though he assumes it is most likely the pain in his shoulder. And he can only assume that the food provided sufficient distraction, but he doesn't ask for an answer from Cas; he doesn't want to upset him anymore.</p><p>They still have a couple days of travel ahead of them but Dean decides as he looks at the map that they’re going to add a day and take the more populated route. It’ll take them far more north than they need to be but he knows that the amount of people on the trail will give them safety in numbers.</p><p>They got attacked in broad daylight, what's to say someone else won’t try the same thing.</p><p>Cas tells him he’s being a bit paranoid, and Dean wants to believe him but then he sees the gauze poking out from the collar of Cas’ shirt and ice washes through his veins. So, he ignores everything and only listens to the voice that says again and again to get to a place where Cas is safe. <em>You can rest when Cas is safe</em>.</p><p>He pays the innkeeper handsomely for his discretion and laughs at how things have changed. Half a decade ago he would have been the one collecting the money for the establishments to look the other way and now he’s the one handing over the money.</p><p>Dean’s on edge the entire day, he’s constantly checking around them, constantly making sure they don't find themselves alone on the road for long. He paces from Ringer’s head to the side of the gig while they water him to make sure that he can see around the back. He has his pistol in his hand the entire time they’re stopped. An easily understood threat that has other travellers glancing at them sideways as they pass.</p><p>He barely speaks, only asking Cas how he’s feeling and if he needs to stop for anything before falling quiet again. When they stop for the night in a trail town, he gets Cas a room and takes his post outside of Cas’ door.</p><p>The next day follows the same. Cas grows increasingly concerned for his well-being as the only time Dean stops moving is when he’s driving the carriage and even then, his eyes never stop checking their surroundings.</p><p>Everything makes him ready to strike. Every muscle in his body is tensed and prepared to fight if the need arises.</p><p>He grinds his teeth despite the pain in his jaw. The pain almost helps, when his body protests its treatment, the pain reminds him that letting his guard down is what almost got Cas killed in the first place.</p><p>Dean’s heart shatters every time Cas begs him to stop, to rest, to <em>fucking talk to him</em>. He’s hurting Cas again and it's ruining him but he can’t listen to any of that, so he sets his jaw and lets that pain guide him instead.</p><p>Blind determination drives him forward. Keeps him going when sleep begs to be had with every blink of his eyes. His stomach aches with no food yet churns and threatens to empty itself when fed.</p><p>Again, he stays right outside Cas’ room. Again, his entire body thrums with pent up energy and fear. Again, Cas implores him to take a breath and Dean’s starting to think that this transgression may be the one that Cas can’t forgive.</p>
<hr/><p>It’s not quite night fall when they finally ride into the outskirts of the town Jody’s farm is a part of. Dean sends Cas a look, Cas nods, answering his question without words needing to be shared and a small part of him stitches itself back together. Even with everything so fucked up right now Cas can still understand him just from a look.</p><p>They stop outside of a saloon that also functions as an inn. Large letters spell out 'The Roadhouse' above the door and as they ride up to the front Dean waves over a young man with long brown hair—though oddly enough it’s short in the front—and climbs from the seat.</p><p>“Evening Sir,” the man says. “Are you looking at getting a room for the night?”</p><p>A part of Dean, the minuscule bit that isn’t balancing on a razor's edge of tension, warms at the honorific the man uses to address him.</p><p>“Yes, and we’ll need our horse taken care of. Do you provide that service as well?”</p><p>“That we do! My name is Ash by the way, just so you know who to ask for if you can’t find me when you’re ready to head out.” Dean elects not to comment on the strange name, considering he didn’t have one two months ago he’s no one to be able to judge.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>With a nod Ash steps back, allowing them to gather their things from the carriage. Dean helps Cas down, careful of his shoulder, and grabs the chest and the bag. After providing a few instructions to Ash about Ringer’s care they head into the saloon.</p><p>Almost immediately a woman calls out to them from the bar.</p><p>“Evening fellas! Just passing through or staying a while?”</p><p>“A bit of both Ma’am,” Dean responds.</p><p>“You working for one of the farms ‘round here?” she questions. Dean can see her take in all the damage to his face but she makes no comment, she doesn't even react.</p><p>Dean debates not telling her, still hyper vigilant about their surroundings but being so close to Jody’s, finally in a place that has a sense of safety to it, he figures there's not much harm to be had.</p><p>“Ms. Mills’ farm Ma’am, we thought it best to arrive fresh tomorrow instead of showing up at such a late hour, and still weary from travelling.”</p><p>The woman's face splits into an excited smile. “You must be Dean! Well welcome welcome, Jody’s quite proud to have managed to get you.” His chest warms at the woman's words, a fondness for Jody burrowing into the warmth. “And please call me Ellen, anyone who has Jody’s approval has mine too.”</p><p>Something inside him breathes a deep sigh, and sure enough some of the fight bleeds out of him.</p><p>He walks up and shakes Ellen’s hand and Cas follows suit. Dean sees Ellen’s eyes catch on his bound shoulder but she doesn't ask.</p><p>“And who might this be? Jody only mentioned you, Dean.”</p><p>“My name’s Castiel Ma’am, I’m here with Dean. Jody doesn't yet know of my presence.”</p><p>Ellen sizes him up for a moment but concedes.</p><p>“Will you be needing rooms?”</p><p>“Just for hi—” Dean starts.</p><p>“A double if you have it please,” Cas requests with a sharp look at him. He doesn't even try to fight the booking.</p><p>“Certainly, room thirteen, up the stairs on the left. The wash closet is connected so you’ll be able to wash without issue.” When Dean sends her a quizzical look she explains, “Jody said to set you up with the best accommodation we could if you stopped in.”</p><p>Dean smiles at her, a real uninhibited smile. The first one in days. Then he catches Cas’ eye and starts for the stairs.</p><p>Each step towards their room has more of the tension seeping from his body. His feet become heavy as the toll of the last few days catches up to him. His breath comes in short, his throat threatening to close itself under the weight that's crashing down on him. His eyes are burning by the time they make it to their room.</p><p>Dean fumbles with the keys, Cas steps in with a questioning glance at him and goes about unlocking the door. His hands are shaking too damn much to handle a simple key. He flashes back to Cas prone on the ground, his hands shaking the same way then, and like a bull it slams into him. Cas is safe, they made it and Cas is safe.</p><p>Cas opens the door and he stumbles in after him. The last dregs of sunlight stream in through the room’s windows, painting the walls in gentle yellows and pinks. If he had the mind for it, he would admire its beauty. He doesn’t though and the swaths go unnoticed as his thoughts begin to race.</p><p>The silence is stifling once the door to their room is closed. Dean is trying so hard to keep it together because he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stop if he lets it go.</p><p>He’s dead still in the center of the room, his head cast to the floor, breathing more fully for the first time in days and each one burns like how it does after you inhale water. It’s like he’s been drowning for three days and only now has his head broken the surface.</p><p>His mouth is sealed around all of the words Cas needs to hear, all the words that he needs to say. How can he even begin to tell Cas how sorry he is, how scared he’s been, how he would do it all over again if it meant Cas would be safe, even if it meant that Cas would hate him.</p><p>He doesn't notice Cas coming up to him until his shoes step into his line of vision. His hands sway, wanting to reach out for Dean but not knowing if he’s allowed.</p><p>“Dean?” The question is whispered as though Cas is afraid to break through his senses.</p><p>Between one second and the next Dean falls forward, effectively throwing himself at Cas. Ever cautious of his injured left shoulder, Dean buries his face into the right side of Cas’ neck, his arms snake around his torso and squeeze so tightly he thinks it might hurt Cas. But Cas makes no complaints.</p><p>Dean’s breath stutters out on a broken sob when Cas’ good arm loops around his upper back while his other becomes a steadying presence on his hip. It’s silent still, barely the sound of their breathing breaks the quiet of the rooms but it’s not stifling as it had been, instead it’s as though everything is on pause, allowing them to have this moment.</p><p>They stay like that for so long Dean’s arms start to go numb from how tight he’s holding Cas, but he makes no move to separate them. Cas doesn’t try to make him talk and he doesn’t make him pull away. He stands there wrapped in the embrace as Dean actually breathes for the first time in days.</p><p>It’s no shock to either of them when Dean starts crying, the wave of emotions he had held off on comes crashing down on him with so much force that it buckles his knees. It’s almost unnoticeable at first until the first sobs break from his chest, Cas’ arms tighten around him, holding him up just enough that they won’t go tumbling to the floor.</p><p>His mind spins without ever showing a sign of it tiring, flitting from thought to thought, always landing back on Cas. Every time it does, a whimper falls from his lips and tears run anew. At some point Cas starts whispering into his ear as his good arm rubs up and down Dean’s back in time with his own breathing, it helps to control Dean’s breathing which he thinks was probably the goal.</p><p>“We’re safe Dean. I’m okay.”</p><p>“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”</p><p>“Please don’t shut me out again.”</p><p>“It wasn’t your fault. You saved me Dean.”</p><p>“We made it; this is the start okay? We are starting here together now.”</p><p>He doesn’t really believe it; the likelihood is that he won't ever believe everything Cas has just said. He opens his mouth, trying to force any words out, when he’s finally able to, his voice is so broken it hurts to listen to.</p><p>“I’m sorry Cas, I’m so fucking sorry,” Dean chokes out as he trembles. His fists clench tighter into Cas’ shirt.</p><p>“Dean, you have nothing to be sorry for… aside from shutting down these last couple days. Though now I understand why that happened, you can’t expect me not to be upset when you act like that.”</p><p>“I don’t Cas, I just had this singular focus to get you here. I had to get you safe, I—I couldn’t stop until you were safe.” He sounds so scared even to his own ears. He pulls back just enough to see Cas’ face.</p><p>“I’m safe Dean, you kept me safe,” Cas says as he knocks their foreheads together, their arms still encircling each other, keeping them close.</p><p>Guilt curls in his chest. “No I’m the reason you were in danger, I caused this, my past I—. Just being beside you puts you in danger.”</p><p>“No it doesn't Dean, those men had no idea who you were. You’d never wronged them in the past, they had no cause to come after you. Sometimes we just cross paths with evil people and it’s no one's fault.” His hand cups Dean’s cheek and his eyes slip closed, an errant tear spills over and treks down his cheek, Cas thumbs it away. “If anything, your past saved us, I screwed up royally and we’d be dead if you hadn’t acted as you did. Know this Dean, nothing you’ve done in your life got either of us shot, this was not your fault, you have nothing to be absolved of.” Cas says the last sentence so fiercely Dean finds himself nodding.</p><p>“Let me take care of you now, you’ve not slept in three days. You’ve done such a good job making sure I’m okay, please let me do the same for you,” Cas pleads as Dean pulls back, searching his eyes for the sincerity he hears in his words.</p><p>He nods again and his eyes flick to Cas’ lips, he wants so badly to kiss him, to prove to himself that things will be okay. The decision is made for him as Cas draws him in. It’s beautifully painful, heart-wrenching and everything that he needed. When they pull apart Dean runs his hands along the sides of Cas’ face, not moving back at all.</p><p>“I almost lost you,” Dean says, his voice barely more than a whisper but still heavy with emotion. Cas shivers as it ghosts along his lips.</p><p>Cas gives him a watery smile, “The impermanence of life is what gives beauty to it.” It sounds like he’s quoting something but he doesn't ask what.</p><p>“That's bullshit,” he says and his heart lifts as Cas chuckles and leans in again to catch his lips in an achingly sweet kiss.</p><p>“Maybe so,” he concedes slowly. “Come to bed,” Cas whispers against his lips, the gentle tickle making him shudder.</p><p>His apprehension must show on his face as Cas corrects himself, “To sleep Dean, let me hold you as we <em>both</em> sleep. Lord knows we could use it, you more so than anyone right now.”</p><p>He lets Cas lead him to one of the beds, lets him strip off Dean’s shirt helping on the right side because Cas can’t lift his shoulder high enough for that—they both chuckle a bit when his head gets stuck in his shirt thanks to the odd angle. He lets Cas kiss the bandaged wound on his arm, lets him kiss the bruises and cuts that litter his face.</p><p>He submits when Cas gently pushes him to sit on the bed, he kicks off his shoes as Cas’ fingers run through his hair, tomorrow he’ll wash, tomorrow he’ll take care of himself, tonight there's no time for that.</p><p>Everything is gentle and warm and he finds himself fighting to keep the words from escaping, three little words that he’s had bouncing in his head for far too long. He keeps them inside though; tonight isn’t the night for them.</p><p>Cas puts out all but one of the room's lights, and in the increasing darkness, his body grows heavy.</p><p>A murmured “thank you” makes its way to his ears and when Cas curls around him, both of them lying on their right sides, his chest to Dean’s back, he takes hold of his wrist, careful while moving his injured arm, and searches out his pulse. Cas lays his hand over Dean’s heart and together they fall asleep to the matched beating beneath their fingers.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <em>Inserts the John Mulaney "Now we don't have time to unpack all of that" meme and slowly backs away.</em>
</p><p>Dean went through it in that chapter, emotionally at least. Cas on the other hand went through it physically. But hey they made it out alive, didn't they? That's got to count for something right?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Sun Leads Weary Travellers Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first thing he registers is the heavy weight of Cas’ arm draped across his waist, the next is the soft, even breaths that land on his shoulder. He’s exhausted, tired down to his bones, so he makes a choice he’s never made before and he allows himself the chance to go back to sleep. The softness of the bed beneath him throws him with every movement and he reckons the only reason he’d been able to sleep so well last night was because of the fatigue that plagued his body.</p><p>Cas pulls him in close as he continues to sleep and Dean smiles as warmth blooms in his chest. Things aren't perfect, Dean knows that he hasn’t properly addressed his actions over the last few days; but lying here with Cas right now, he doesn’t see an outcome where Cas doesn’t eventually forgive him for all the wrong he’s done.</p><p>And he knows that to some degree, while he will always blame himself for what happened to Cas, Cas will just as completely blame <em>himself</em> for ‘screwing up royally’ and putting them in that position.</p><p>It’s a passing thought, as sleep once again drags him into its calming depths, that if he doesn't blame Cas, maybe Cas is being honest and doesn’t blame him either.</p><p>When he wakes again Cas is running a hand through his hair, brushing it off his forehead and spiking it up with a fond expression. He blinks several times to try to dislodge the fuzziness of sleep but eventually, he keeps his eyes closed, content to stay in sleep’s clutches.</p><p>“Good morning sunshine,” Cas mumbles, still sleep logged. A bolt of fear hits him squarely in the chest, memories flood the darkness behind his eyes and his breathing turns ragged.</p><p>“Dean, look at me, please,” Cas says, panic of his own creeping into the request. When Dean turns and their eyes meet it dispels some of the worry. “I can stop calling you that if you want, I just thought maybe it would be best to try to replace the last time you heard that word with something nicer.”</p><p>Cas looks so genuine, so damn concerned for what he wants, that he finds himself nodding along with what Cas is saying. He doesn't want Cas to stop calling him that, he just doesn't want it to make him scared. He gets a soft smile in return. For now, it’s enough to quiet his fear, they’re both here, perhaps a little worse for wear, but here nonetheless.</p><p>Worry eats into his chest about how Jody will react to his injuries. How she’ll react to Cas—and his injuries—showing up with Dean. If she thinks there's a risk involved with letting Dean work for her, will she break their contract? Can she even do that? He knows that there's a difference between hiring someone and hiring someone with a past like his. And considering Charles knows almost nothing of his life, he assumes Jody falls into the first category.</p><p>There’s a risk people can’t help but focus on, fears about what he’s done and who he’s made bad with before, it’s cost him jobs before, but showing up to new places usually lends itself to being a clean break for him in the past.</p><p>Showing up with cuts, bruises and two bullet wounds between them isn't going to go unnoticed and there are few ways to play off such injuries. All he can hope is that Jody isn't the type to get a sheriff involved.</p><p>The gnawing follows him through their morning, both taking care to clean properly, helping Cas when needed. It stops him from eating as he should but there's nothing to be done for that until he knows one way or the other what Jody is going to do. He fiddles with his long sleeves constantly, enough so that Cas takes his hand on more than one occasion to give it a reassuring squeeze.</p><p>It’s just past midday as they ride along the main road into Jody’s land. Her property stretches out around them further than Dean can see, the fence line disappears before it turns to define the edges of her farm.</p><p>It takes a few minutes longer to spot what he assumes to be the main house. There are a few people milling about, he hopes that their introduction will be done through Jody. He’s never been great at meeting new people or making friends.</p><p>As they pull up to the house, Jody walks through the front door. With a wide smile, she makes her way up to the gig just as Dean gathers the courage to step out, knowing that it could be less than a minute before he’s being turned away, Cas in tow.</p><p>Her expression falls the second she sees Dean’s face and he can hardly hide his flinch. Donning a smile of his own he tries to keep up appearances as best he can.</p><p>She’s not seen Cas yet, but Dean can pinpoint the moment she does as her eyes go almost comically wide. She tries to school her expression but it's clear that the double shock has taken some of her tact from her, Dean can’t blame her, they’ve shown up in quite a fashion.</p><p>“Castiel, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Jody says, and while it's not phrased like a question, there's no doubt in any of their minds that she expects an answer.</p><p>“Pardon Ma’am but it was time for me to move on, begin my life properly. I was hoping to stay with Dean while I do so.”</p><p>“And Dean you’re fine with this?” Jody asks.</p><p>“Yes Ma’am,” he says with a look to Cas. His eyes are a bit wild, he’s nervous as all hell. “Travelled all this way with him, I already know he snores, so it won't be a problem.”</p><p>It’s maybe a bit presumptuous to reference so plainly the nature of their relationship, but Jody had already told him that it isn’t an issue to her so he tries not to fret on the slip.</p><p>“And the new look you’re sporting?” she asks after a moment.</p><p>Dean pauses, but only for a second, to think about how truthful he should be in his answer. “We ran into a bit of trouble with some other travellers but we made it out okay.”</p><p>“If you’d like we can go down into town and file a report about them, I don’t stand for my people getting hurt on or off my land.”</p><p>“No need Ma’am, it was taken care of before we made it here.” Vague as the answer is, Jody takes it and Dean breathes a sigh of relief, he really doesn't want to have to lie, or god forbid tell the actual truth of the matter.</p><p>“Hey’o!” A woman calls from the porch. She makes her way down to them, all warm smiles and cheery disposition. She stops close in at Jody’s side when she reaches them.</p><p>“Dean, I believe I mentioned Donna the first time we met?”</p><p>“That you did, it’s lovely to meet you Donna,” Dean says, turning his attention to Donna. “This is Cas, we met on his family’s farm.” Dean doesn't know what else to add to that and Cas seems content to stay quiet and let Dean handle the small lies that he may or may not be forced into telling.</p><p>Jody whispers something to Donna that sounds vaguely like “same situation” before she turns back to them with—if it’s even possible—an even larger and warmer smile. Donna walks right up to Dean, he’s expecting a handshake so he’s quite surprised when her arms wrap around him, there's something about the hug that makes him think of his mother. Donna squeezes a bit and he wraps his arms around her, completing the hug and making something warm grow in his chest. He sinks into it a bit and sighs. It’s comforting to have something so reminiscent of motherly affection in his life, even for the short few seconds Donna hugs him. Donna pulls back and pulls Cas into a short hug too; he relaxes into it immediately and Dean can’t help the private smile that makes its way to his face at the sight. She drops her arms and takes a step back before walking back to Jody’s side. They talk privately before Donna turns back to them.</p><p>“Well we’re real happy to have you boys here, I’ll let you get back to it and I’ll see ya all later,” Donna says with a wave as she heads back into the house.</p><p>Jody is about to launch into some discussion with them but her face lights up and she turns to face Donna’s retreating form.</p><p>“Donna!” Donna turns. “Don’t forget, you said you would fold our laundry today, but it’s still hanging on the line out back.” Even from their distance Dean can see Donna roll her eyes fondly.</p><p>She raises her arm in acquiescence and shouts across the field, “Yes dear!” she turns around again, her shoulders shaking lightly with a laugh. Jody has a wide smile on her face as well, the kind that comes from someone she loves deeply doing something she finds endearing.</p><p>“Sorry about earlier, she’s a hugger,” Jody says after she turns back and seems to realize they are both still standing beside her.</p><p>“Ah it’s no mind,” Dean says, hoping to not let on to how much he enjoyed the embrace. “We’re just glad to be welcomed so warmly.” Cas moves towards him, standing close and some of his lingering nerves quiet down with his proximity. The backs of their hands knock together as they stand there listening to Jody.</p><p>“Of course! We were beginning to worry about you, though now I see we had some reason to, we’re just glad you made it,” Jody says as she reaches out and, by some miracle, squeezes his uninjured arm reassuringly. “Now I reckon you both are eager to get yourselves settled, I’m going to show you to your boarding and I’ll let you unpack. Kevin will be by to get Ringer and take him to the stables and I'll introduce you to some of the staff in a couple hours if that's alright with you both.”</p><p>Jody starts walking down the path towards the side of the farm closest to the town they’d just come from. Dean grabs Ringers reins and walks him alongside their small group.</p><p>It takes them about fifteen minutes to walk the distance from the main house to where they’ll be living. As the house comes into view Dean’s a bit apprehensive. It’s small, big enough to fit four or five people if they were really packed in there, but if this is the house that the employees share, he thinks they must be living in such close quarters that they’ll be stumbling over each other constantly.</p><p>He can’t lie though, the house itself is lovely. It is painted a dark muted red and stands out against the backdrop of the blue sky. It gives off such a welcoming aura that he can actually imagine it becoming a sort of home for him.</p><p>“So most of the staff lives on the other side of the main house, a few live out closer to the stables, the rest live in town and ride into the farm to work, but this place here is yours.” Jody gestures to the house with her hand and Dean just barely manages to keep his jaw from hitting the ground at the fact that it’s theirs and theirs alone. “There's a stocked kitchen and cold cellar inside but you also have the option of coming up to the main area for food whenever you’d like. If you need anything I’ll be back up at the house, if not I’ll be back in a few hours, right around supper, to grab you both and make some introductions. Give Kevin another few minutes to make his way over here to get Ringer here and get him taken care of.” She sends a slightly concerned look to the horse before waving at the both of them and turning to walk back to her house.</p><p>Quiet falls around them for a few breaths. Dean’s mind is racing, apprehension and excitement battle for his attention. It takes a few seconds for it to really sink in that this is all real. Before now, it still felt like an abstract concept, the job, the future that he had secured for himself. But standing in front of his own house with Cas beside him, interlacing their fingers gently, so that really only the pads are connected, he realizes that the other shoe isn’t going to drop, no one is going to take this from him before he has a chance to actually have it.</p><p>They gather their belongings from the gig and together they walk into the house, Cas laughs when Dean motions him to walk through the open door first as he holds it open in a grandiose manner. The house is a single storey, down a hall to their left must be the bedrooms and in front of them stretches the main parlour. Through a framed doorway Dean can see the kitchen. It’s cozy, quaint even, and the warmth of it makes it all the better.</p><p>He loops his arms around Cas’ middle from behind and relishes in the comfort of Cas leaning his head back to rest against Dean’s shoulder. They sway slightly as they take in the place, the painted wood walls, the fireplace that takes up the centre of the parlours wall, the windows above the kitchen’s sink.</p><p>A smile breaks out on his face that is so evenly divided between joy and disbelief he can’t choose between the two when he sees the curtains strung up in the sill. White and sewn together with careful hands, they soak the kitchen in a soft glow. It’s such a small thing it’s so silly, that in the entirety of the house, the farm, the job, it’s the kitchen curtains that seem to punch him through the chest. The simple fact of living in a house with curtains, when for all his life he never could have had something so unnecessary or something that was such a luxury, has tears burning in the back of his eyes.</p><p>“Hello there! It’s Kevin,” a voice calls from the front of the porch. Dean steps away from Cas and walks towards the man as he continues, “I’m here to take Ringer to the stables.”</p><p>A young man stands right at the base of the stairs, his hands fidget at his sides but he watches Ringer with awe apparent on his face.</p><p>“Hi there Kevin, I’m Dean this is Cas—”</p><p>“Castiel, please,” Cas interrupts. Dean furrows his brow in a clear question but when Cas elects not to answer he moves on.</p><p>“I’d love to go to the stables with you, if only to inform you of what care Ringer will likely need but unfortunately, we are a bit held up here. I hope to be by some time later today to see everything firsthand,” Dean tells him. Kevin nods and moves up to Ringer's shoulder, talking to him in a low voice.</p><p>Cas comes up close behind Dean and, drawing him close, he says, “Come on, let's get settled in.” He pulls on his arm to get him to walk towards the house.</p><p>The rest of the day is a whirlwind, after they unpack what little belongings they brought with them—Cas spends some time setting his books and a small collection of trinkets along a few of the shelves in the parlour, his expression a swirling mix that changes with each breath—Dean takes some time to check the cellar and the food available in the kitchen, he walks through the house, out along the front and back porches as they wait for Jody to come back.</p><p>At some point Cas pulls out some ink and paper and sets about writing Gabriel a letter, he watches Cas write and his heart swells as he sees Cas writing in cursive. Cas notices of course and gives a shrug as his cheeks and the tips of his ears go pink. It's endlessly endearing to know that Cas went out of his way to keep Dean from the possible embarrassment of being the only one to sign in print back on the farm.</p><p>He grabs some paper and writes another letter to Sam. He swallows his nerves and asks if Sam wants to ride into town to see each other again, he can’t imagine his brother would decline but it’s been almost a year at this point since they’ve seen each other and Dean knows that they’ve both changed, that they aren't the same men that parted ways back then.</p><p>Jody shows up just after they’ve finished with their letters and they head to the stables as a group, though their time there is short, Dean is able to gather a feel for the space and how it all works and functions as a complete system.</p><p>After a brief introduction to some of the workers Dean will be working side by side with, they head back to the main house. During dinner they seem to have a consistent stream of people to meet, hopping from one table to the next.</p><p>He can hardly keep them all straight. Charlie was sweet, he knows that, Meg seemed to eye up Cas with immense interest, the group of young women blended together but he’s reasonably certain one was named Krissy and another Kaia. A man named Aaron sat beside Garth—who according to Jody is the town's dentist for both humans and farm animals—who talks so extensively about his wife that Dean doesn't learn a thing about the man from his own mouth.</p><p>By the time they get their supper Dean’s head is swimming and his body still aches from its days spent coiled so tightly. He can see that Cas isn’t faring much better, his face contorts in pain when he moves his shoulder and his body is weighed down with the excitement of the day.</p><p>It seems that everyone just knows to leave them be as they eat quietly beside one another. The chaos around them doesn’t bother him, the noises and sights and smells of a well lived space filter into the small bubble that surrounds their table and he revels in it, the sense of being part of something; it’s something he wasn't even consciously aware of missing, and yet being part of this bigger picture, having been welcomed by all of the people around him despite the story that his face tells, fills a gap that had gone empty for so long.</p>
<hr/><p>Later on, after the room had quieted as everyone returned to their work or turned in for the night to prepare for an early start the next day, Dean and Cas meander their way back to their house.</p><p>He sneaks his arm around Cas’ middle. It feels so rewarding to be able to do so without worry. Sometime in the days after they left the farm, they came to an understanding about what all this was exactly and with it came the allowance of these tender moments they’d both denied wanting. Of course he’d disallowed himself to have this after Cas got shot, couldn't fathom why Cas would want it and he had to punish himself in some way for his failure but now things seem to be better.</p><p>His musings carry him up the few steps and into the house, Cas still tucked in against him, now with his arm lifted around Dean’s shoulders. Cas heads into the kitchen as Dean lights a few of the sconces and lanterns to see by.</p><p>When Cas returns, he has a private smile on his face and a promise in his eyes that has Dean’s blood heating in his veins. A golden glint catches his attention and he sees the flask securely held in Cas’ palm.</p><p>“You really think we need that?” he asks, amused.</p><p>“Mmm, no not anymore, but thought we could make it a bit of a tradition. First night celebration or something like it,” Cas responds, his eyes dancing in the low light of the lanterns.</p><p>Unlike the first time they shared the flask, in a then unknown first night celebration, Dean moves in close to catch the deep dark blue of Castiel’s eyes in the soft yellow of the room.</p><p>He’s a bit breathless as Cas lifts the flask to his mouth and takes a long pull from it, the muscles in his throat work around the liquid and heat pools in Dean's groin with the knowledge of how that skin tastes, how it feels as it works to choke out broken pleas.</p><p>When Cas hands the flask over to him, letting their fingers slide against one another, Dean doesn't hide the shiver that wracks his frame. Cas’ eyes light up watching Dean, he makes no attempt to hide his ogling, his stare burns hotter than the whiskey in his throat.</p><p>Once he’s dropped the flask from his mouth Cas pounces on him. His good arm grabs Dean by the neck and draws him in, the other winds around his back and constricts, slotting their legs together and pressing their bodies from chest to upper thigh.</p><p>He loses himself in the press and glide of their lips coming together again and again, in the gripping of Cas’ fingers on the back of his neck, in the small noises that are pulled from each of their throats.</p><p>It’s almost second nature to snake his tongue out and run it along the seam of their slotted lips, silently begging for access, a low groan makes its way from his chest as Cas’ lips part and their tongues slide together for the first time in days.</p><p>His fingers play with the hair at the back of Cas’ neck, his arm loops around Cas shoulder keeping him close as they allow themselves to forget everything that isn’t them together like this, standing in their house, safe and blissfully alone.</p><p>He mouths his way down to the bolt of Cas’ jaw and slips just past it, caressing the soft spot just below his ear, a soft noise releases from Cas’ throat and Dean smirks against his neck. Kissing down further he laves his tongue against his pulse point and sucks. Cas’ knees buckle slightly against the sensation and before he knows it, his head is getting pulled back up as Cas crashes their mouths together once again.</p><p>He grins stupidly into the kiss, his stomach swoops as Cas devours his mouth and a low groan is pulled from him as Cas begins to rock their hips together. The hard line of Cas’ arousal is pressed against the well of his hip, each grind a dirty promise of what lay in store for them. His own hard length matches Castiel’s and his stomach riots at the sensation.</p><p>When Cas pulls away from the kiss he whines and chases his lips again, but Cas holds him back.</p><p>“Let me take you to bed,” Cas whispers into the soft quiet of the room.</p><p>Dean hesitates, not because he doesn't want that—no those words have the fire low in his abdomen burning stronger than ever—but because Cas is still hurt, still tired from his body fighting to right itself and heal him.</p><p>“Your shoulder, you’re still hurt,” Dean says, shaking his head gently, just enough blood still going to his brain to think logically.</p><p>“My shoulder is fine.” Dean sends him a pointed look. “Okay, it’s not fine but I can handle this and I promise that if it ever gets to be too much, if my shoulder ever starts to hurt, I’ll tell you,” Cas says earnestly. “You won’t hurt me Dean,” he says as though he knows that's what Dean needs to hear from him and leans in again, their lips meld against each other, spit slick and wanting.</p><p>Dean reaches out and grabs Cas’ hand in his, the warm rough palm holds his own as though they both know they are holding something precious, something to be cherished. His cheeks flush at the thought and a warmth opens in his chest.</p><p>Cas squeezes his hand and they walk towards their room. It’s slow going as they stop constantly to press their lips to soft pieces of skin, under the jaw, the back of the neck, a teasing press to the side of the mouth.</p><p>They make it to the doorway and Cas stops, he knocks his head towards the lights before stepping back and heading to the wash closet.</p><p>Dean has no clue what Cas is doing, but who is he to stop him if he needs to use the bathroom.</p><p>He grabs the starter and lights a few of the sconces around the room. He wants to crack a window simply for the pleasure of watching the curtains blow about in the breeze but he holds off. He doesn't want the entire ranch’s worth of bugs to fly towards the lights.</p><p>He’s still looking at the windows—the debate continuing in his mind though he knows he won’t open them regardless—when Cas comes up behind him. His middle is gathered up in Cas’ arms and something cool touches his forearm as he drops his head back to make room for Cas, who is currently kissing and mouthing his way along the cords of Dean’s neck.</p><p>He looks down and sees a tin pressed between his arm and Cas’ palm. Cas shows it to him when he lets out a questioning hum. Nestled into his palm is a tin of jelly and Dean feels his cheeks heat again.</p><p>“And what are we going to do with that?” he asks coyly.</p><p>“Whatever we’d like, we don’t have to rush, we don’t have to worry or keep quiet,” Cas pauses as Dean spins around in his arms. “It’s you and me; we can do anything.”</p><p>Dean gets the feeling he might not be just talking about sex; he swallows around the lump that’s grown in his throat. The prospect doesn't scare him as much as he thought it would, and what he sees in Cas’ eyes takes much of the rest of the fear away.</p><p>It’s endearing to see Cas a bit nervous. The flush that stains his cheekbones runs down his neck. The quick flitting of his eyes as he looks from one of Dean’s to the other. It betrays the steadiness of his voice, the sure movement as he flicks the tin onto the bed.</p><p>Not wanting to keep him in his misery for any longer than he already has, Dean nods his head and leans in, mouth hovering millimetres away from Cas’ lips.</p><p>“Then what are we waiting for,” Dean murmurs before pulling Cas in by the back of his neck.</p><p>Immediately the kiss is all consuming, their hands grapple at each other's clothes, pulling and pushing without really accomplishing anything. Dean gets his hand up under Cas’ shirt and scores lines into the flesh of his back. The strong muscle beneath the skin ripples with his touch and he grips his hand at the stretch of his waist, his fingers digging into the sinews every time the heat between them goes up a notch.</p><p>His once flagging erection comes back to life as he blindly maps out Cas’ back and with it comes a sigh from his lover.</p><p>Cas sweeps his tongue into Dean’s mouth, and Dean lets him take the kiss wherever he chooses. Cas’ growing cock presses against his thigh as Dean submits to him and his insides get a little twisted with pride at that. A devilish flick of his tongue draws a moan from him and as Cas repeats the move, a flip switches.</p><p>Both his hands come to grab the sides of Cas’ face and neck, the pressure behind the kiss almost becomes too much but Dean doesn't care. If tomorrow he wakes up with stubble burned chin and lips bruised from the force of Cas against him, he’ll wear them like a badge of honour, proof that they made it here even with everything working against them.</p><p>Cas makes a muffled sound, Dean swallows it and the bolts of pleasure that stretch down to his toes come to settle heavy at the base of his spine, stoking the fire and making it hard to think.</p><p>Cas grips into the hem of his shirt and begins to slowly lift it, his hands trail against the bumps of the scars on his back, playing against the muscle and leaving a burning trail in their wake.</p><p>Dean breaks the kiss so that Cas can lift the shirt over his head, he helps again to get it off when Cas’ shoulder still stops him from being able to do so alone.</p><p>Before he can duck in again and lock their lips together Cas takes a half step back. His eyes roam over the expanse of Dean’s chest. He fights the urge to cover himself, he can’t remember the last time someone looked so intensely at his torso and as such he’s not used to the feeling of the eyes on him. Cas looks from scar to scar, from freckle to freckle, and from each piece of his anatomy to the next.</p><p>“So beautiful,” Cas says, his gaze trained right into Dean’s eyes. “So incredibly gorgeous.” He says it so quietly Dean can’t be sure he was ever supposed to hear him.</p><p>His breath catches with the intensity and his flush darkens, stretches further down his neck reaching all the way to his chest. Cas lays his palm flat against the blush stained skin and Dean’s heart hammers in his chest so forcefully he thinks it might beat through his ribs.</p><p>He reaches forward to the bottom of Cas’ shirt and lifts it up more quickly than Cas had done so with his. Still with each new inch of skin exposed his breathing becomes shorter and shorter. It’s nothing he hasn't seen already but now, now he can spend time looking, storing every detail for later, for <em>forever</em>.</p><p>The word springs forward from his mind, forever. He hopes it’s true, that that's what they have now, and it doesn't scare him, or make him worry as he always thought it would. Instead it’s liberating, freeing to know that he’s got something with Cas that he wants to last. A part of him is scared to lose Cas, but that part will stay scared, and nothing he can do will calm it, not after he watched as Cas bled into the dirt, not after he had to carry his limp body to the carriage.</p><p>He pulls the shirt off of Cas’ head and laughs at the tousled look his hair has gotten from the action. He runs his fingers through it to tame it, the strands play between his fingers and nip at the roughness of his palms. Their softness seemingly no match for the catches of his skin.</p><p>Cas is looking at him fondly but he looks away knowing that if he doesn't, they’ll get lost in it.</p><p>His eyes drop to the gauze wrapped shoulder and he reaches up to play with the seam of gauze on his skin. Cas reaches up and brings Dean’s hand to his mouth, laying slow, closed mouth kisses to the skin as Dean drinks in the sight of Cas bared in front of him.</p><p>He knows Cas is strong, he’s seen it firsthand, but looking at his broad chest and arms, at his trunk with its gently defined muscles, built from work, built for use, it makes his mouth run dry in seconds.</p><p>A truly embarrassing noise makes its way from his lungs when he lays his hand and sweeps it across Cas’ uninjured shoulder and down his arm, the hard muscle beneath his skin has fantasies playing out in rapid fire succession in his mind.</p><p>While Cas had been awed and succinct, all Dean can manage is a strangled out “Fuck.” when faced with the feast that is Cas displayed before him. He’s a man starved and for the first time he doesn’t have to stay that way.</p><p>His mouth is barely on Cas’ before Cas has them walking back towards the bed. Cas’ knees hit the edge and his sinks down onto the mattress. He scoots back as Dean kneels onto the bed over him, settling down into his lap. His arousal surges and his hands shake as they twine into the ends of Cas’ hair at the nape of his neck.</p><p>Cas sweeps his hands up to his shoulders and draws him in again. They are slower this time, just intense as before, but slower.</p><p>His hips begin to move on their own, half thrusts and grinds down against Cas’ straining length, drawing small groans from them both. The feeling of Cas’ shaft along the cleft of his ass causes his cock to throb and he can feel as his precome begins to wet the fabric of his pants so much that it’s noticeable with each roll of his hips down into Cas’ lap.</p><p>Dean bites Cas’ lower lip after Cas pairs a flick of his tongue with a strong thrust against his continuously moving hips. Cas growls against his mouth before devouring him again.</p><p>On one sweep of Cas’ hand across his bare torso, his thumb catches on his nipple and he lets out a small moan. Cas does it again and Dean bucks his hips, his cock pulsing in its confines.</p><p>“Pants, off now,” Cas grits as his nails dig into his sides.</p><p>He shuffles off Cas’ lap and steps out of his clothes as Cas does the same and moves further onto the bed. His length stretches proud against his stomach and Dean’s mouth waters as he remembers his taste and the weight of him in his mouth. He crawls forwards and smirks when Cas’ breath hitches in his throat. Moving in close, Dean can see that there's hardly any blue to be found in Cas’ eyes, his pupils blown so wide they swallow almost every bit of their beauty.</p><p>Emboldened by Cas being so overwhelmed, he throws a leg over Cas to straddle his waist. A zing of pleasure courses through him as Cas’ hands come to rest on his hips.</p><p>He bends forwards, a breathless noise makes its way from both their throats at the press of skin on skin. His fingers skim the line of Cas’ jaw, the swirls catching along his stubble, he draws his thumb along his bottom lip, the softness of it such a contrast to the roughness against the rest of his hands.</p><p>His hips thrust forward, rutting their cocks together as he licks his way into Cas’ mouth, he lets their tongues tangle lazily basking in the joy of not having to rush.</p><p>He skims his fingers down Cas’ torso, pleased with himself as the muscles jerk and twitch beneath his touch. Cas huffs a laugh into the crook of his neck, skimming his own hand up his arm and into his hair.</p><p>He has them gripped in his hand a mere second before Cas starts to rock against him like it’s the only thing he wants to do forever. Hell, maybe it is.</p><p>Blunt nails scrape against his skull and the vulnerable skin of his neck and Dean slams his eyes closed with the pleasure of it all. He drives his hips harder, the hot glide of their cocks together—just barely managing not to be too dry thanks to their steadily leaking crowns—has the heat curling in his groin, pulses of arousal skirt down his spine and with each his brain goes fuzzier.</p><p>Cas pushes his mouth away from Dean’s and begins to mark his upper chest, teeth and tongue and sealed lips make their journey over his chest. He burns as Castiel maps him out again and again. He burns and Castiel treasures it.</p><p>“You are incredible Dean,” Cas murmurs into the space between them. “So amazingly sublime.”</p><p>As though he hasn't spent the last several minutes getting hotter and hotter, his cheeks flare and the burn stretches far down his chest.</p><p>His response is cut off when Cas wraps his hand around their cocks, completing the tunnel for them to fuck into. The glide is significantly smoother and Dean looks down to see that Cas managed to get the jelly out of its tin without him noticing.</p><p>It ratchets his desire up another few notches and his groan reverberates around in his chest until the coil winds so tightly he worries it’s about to snap.</p><p>Before he ends this night before it’s begun, Dean forces his eyes open. Spotting the tin, he reaches for it, digging two fingers and pulling out the thick coating. His nerves pick up as he spreads it around his fingers, it’s been some time, even longer with an audience, but nothing could stop Dean as he sits up slightly on Cas chest before reaching around behind him.</p><p>Cas growls as he watches, his hands flexing and releasing like he can't decide between wanting to take over and wanting to watch as Dean fingers himself open to prepare to take his cock.</p><p>Dean circles his hole, warming the jelly and relaxing the muscle, he teases himself and Cas with the slowness of his movements and he feels so empowered to have Cas staring at him dumbstruck.</p><p>When he does slip his finger past the tight ring of muscle, he’s already strung so tightly that the small bit of relief has him sagging down a bit on his raised knees. The finger slides in further and he moans.</p><p>“Cas fuck you gotta stop looking at me like that or this’ll never get anywhere,” Dean says as he watches Cas stroke his cock lazily looking at him as though he’s the most important and arousing thing he’s ever seen.</p><p>Cas’ awed gaze never stops, but he does seem to remember himself after that. His hands reach out and run up and down his thighs as he strokes Dean’s straining cock in time with his own. Dean gets ready for the next and thrusts a second finger deep into his hole as Cas strips his cock with a twist of the wrist right at the bottom of his crown. He fucks up into Cas’ fist and back down onto his fingers.</p><p>Precome blurts from his slit and he can’t remember how to breathe as Cas picks it up on his finger and brings it to his own mouth, groaning at the taste of him on his tongue. Dean can’t imagine he’ll last long if he doesn't pick up the pace.</p><p>He kneels higher again, scissoring his fingers and dipping them just far enough to put the tiniest bit of pressure on his prostate, his breath hitches and short gasps fall from his lips each time he rubs against that small bundle of nerves. Cas growls again and Dean gets an idea.</p><p>“You want to do it Cas?” he questions cheekily. “Wanna split me open on your fingers? Mmm, are you gonna give me what I really want.” Dean doesn’t frame the last one as a question; it sounds far too much like he’s begging.</p><p>Pleasure flies down his spine as Cas dips his fingers into the jelly.</p><p>“I’ve wanted you like this from the very first second I saw you, I just knew you were a force to be reckoned with and I wanted nothing more than to get lost in your storm, now, if I never know a calm day again I’ll be happy.” It’s the perfect mix of sweet talk and dirty talk and Dean really never knew how much that did it for him.</p><p>He pulls his fingers out and holds himself up, his palms flat on Cas’ chest. Cas teases his slightly stretched hole with the pad of one finger before dipping it inside. He burns impossibly hotter.</p><p>“Oh <em>fuck</em>,” Dean says as he rocks down further onto the thick finger. His eyes fall shut as Cas starts to pump it up into him, moaning as it stretches him, the slight pain a welcome sensation.</p><p>He opens his eyes and the image he’s faced with spurts precome from the tip of his cock and a shudder rips through him. Cas is slack-jawed, his eyes fathomless pits of black; his arousal swallowing what little blue that had been there before. He stares at Dean and there's not a soul on the planet that could mistake the pure lust and adoration that make their home across his features. It's enough to stop his breath short, he flushes root to tip, the sparks fly along every inch they are connected.</p><p>When he feels Cas rut up against his ass, the hard line of his cock sliding against the cleft of his ass, he nearly abandons the prep, desperate to have Cas sink into him and drive him to divinity with everything sinful roll of their hips.</p><p>Dean drives his hips down harder and he feels the tip of another finger press gently against his rim distracting him from the mild pain starting in his folded knees.</p><p>“Dea—”</p><p>“Yes, yes Cas god I need you,” he says, rocking his ass back enthusiastically, trying to get Cas to go faster.</p><p>The burn is stronger this time, what with Cas’ fingers being thicker than his, but Cas refuses to sink his finger in any faster despite the pleading noises that he keeps making. His mind has a singular focus, everything narrows down to how Cas feels inside him. Everything narrows to Cas underneath him, hard and wanting, lost to their shared pleasure but still refusing to rush the act, refusing to hurt him unintentionally.</p><p>In direct contrast to Cas’ control—Dean finds he’s losing his with each passing second. His nails dig into the plains of Cas’ chest, his hips move mindlessly seeking out <em>more</em>, desperately. He pitches forwards, the force of it so strong that he ends up plastered against Castiel’s torso, on the first pass of Cas’ fingers against his prostate.</p><p>He bucks his hips violently, chasing the bolts of pleasure that strike him each time Cas presses against the spot.</p><p>He manages to gather the metal facilities to mouth along the flushed skin of Cas’ neck, he pinches the lobe of his ear between his teeth and pulls, he prides himself in Cas’ answering groan and roll of hips against his ass.</p><p>“Shit you feel so good, so fucking good. Not gonna last when it's my cock, so tight. God Dean, you surpass everything even my wildest of dreams could have made up. Can’t wait to show you how incredible you are,” Cas babbles mindlessly.</p><p>Another finger presses against his hole and Dean nods fervently into the crook of Cas’ shoulder. He whines as it enters him, the stretch never as intense on the third compared to the second but he’s blindsided by the heat that surrounds him. Every nerve feels like it’s crackling, the fire that's consumed him stretches to every inch of his body and they haven’t even gotten to the ‘good part’ which is ridiculous to say when all of this has felt so incredibly good that it’s making him delirious.</p><p>Cas rides the curve of his ass; his purpling cock drips a steady stream of precome down his length as Dean watches them move together.</p><p>The sight is too much for him, he’s wound so tightly, is so desperate for Cas to fuck him that seeing him fuck up against his crack when it could be sliding into him instead snaps what little resolve he held.</p><p>He blindly feels around for the tin not having the strength in him to extract himself from the cocoon that he’s made himself against Cas’ neck. The cold metal is a shock to his heated skin, but the jelly warms quickly once it's on his fingers.</p><p>He peers between them to find Cas’ length and strokes it as Cas shudders under him, curses falling softly from his lips.</p><p>“Cas please, I’m ready, I’m so damn ready,” Dean pleas, pumping his closed fist over Cas’ cock.</p><p>A growl sounds from low in Cas’ throat before he eases his fingers out of Dean. He whines at the loss regardless of the slow movements and guides Cas’ well lubed cock so the blunt crown presses against his hole.</p><p>Anticipation sends a shiver down his spine as he rocks back against Cas. Teasing them both for just a bit longer. Cas’ fingers grip into his hip hard enough to leave half-moon indents; and god he wouldn't mind being marked as Castiel’s for anyone to see. A possessive thrill sets his heart aflame at the thought of returning the favour.</p><p>He sits up—hardly noticing the pinch of pain in his bent knees—and reaches back, his need heightened by his desire to feel even a sliver of the claim he finds he wants put on Cas, and grabs his length at the base holding it steady as he slowly sinks down onto it, impaling himself with Cas’ cock.</p><p>His voice is choked off, gone and replaced with pure unadulterated pleasure, but Cas groans as Dean sheaths him inside of himself.</p><p>“<em>Dean</em> oh fuck, <em>god</em> you feel incredible,” Cas says as he bottoms out, his ass resting high on Cas’ thick thighs, his toes curl as his mouth runs dryer.</p><p>He’s so full, stretched wide around Cas’ impressive length. His nerves alight again stronger than ever and he can hardly take a breath around the fire coursing, singing through his veins. He balances himself with two hands splayed on Cas’ bare chest, the muscles shift and roll beneath his fingers and he wants to trace it all with his tongue just to know how it feels.</p><p>They grip into each other as they get used to the sensations. After a minute Dean lifts his ass experimentally and lowers himself down again. Arousal sparks along his spine and the curling pressure at its base begins to gather again.</p><p>He rocks his hips up, his breath stutters from between his lips as Cas’ cock slides perfectly against his prostate. Cas is breathing as though he’s run all day and night, his chest heaves under Dean's hands and pride fills him at being able to reduce him to such a state by simply accepting him into his body.</p><p>He grinds down, Cas still fully sheathed, and Cas’ resolve breaks.</p><p>“So fucking perfect, so good. Riding me so flawlessly. God the way you feel, the way you are, Dean you are perfect, so perfect for me. If you could see yourself right now, if you could see even half of what I see <em>ahh</em>.” Dean cuts him off with another grind. Cas bucks up into him and punches the breath clean from his lungs.</p><p>He snaps then too, raising himself up and dropping himself down onto Cas’ cock over and over again. Words of praise fall from Cas’ lips and with each one his pleasure is driven higher.</p><p>He pitches his hips forward, grinds them back in a circle, lifts and drops straight down impaling himself so deep that he can hardly breathe, his knees aren’t a fan of his enthusiasm but he couldn’t give a shit. He rides Cas like a man possessed, sweat collects at his hairline and his breathing is so ragged it almost hurts.</p><p>Cas meets his thrusts each time and soon the only thing that can be heard in the room is their groans of bliss and the steady slapping as Dean’s ass lands against Cas’ hips with each pass.</p><p>“God fuck <em>yesss</em>,” Dean cries out as Cas lands a brutal thrust right on his prostate. Sparks light behind his closed eyes. Fire bleeds from every part of him. He feels Cas everywhere, each inch of his thick cock buried in his ass, the ridge as it grazes his prostate like it’s its only job, his hands as they map his torso and thighs scoring red lines and indenting his skin in claims of possession and Dean can’t think of anything but his growing release.</p><p>He ignores the protest of pain in his knees as he lifts himself up until just the head kisses his rim and slams down robbing them both of breath.</p><p>“Oh god Cas you feel so good, fill me so good,” he whines as Cas snaps his hips up, burying his cock to the hilt.</p><p>His knees protest more but nothing has ever felt this <em>incredible</em> and he doesn't want it to stop just because his knees are going to be sore tomorrow. He shifts with one thrust and his knee decides it’s had enough. Cas picks up on the pain and lifts his hips up with one arm, doing little really to support his weight but enough to stop him from sinking back down his length.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” Cas asks.</p><p>“Nothing ‘m fine, it’s just my knees.”</p><p>Cas’ eyebrows tick up, “Do you want to switch?”</p><p>His apprehension shows on his face, clear even in the dim light of the room, and Cas lets out a short laugh.</p><p>“Not like that, though I wouldn't be opposed to it in the future if you wanted, I meant just flipping over.”</p><p>It’s embarrassing how hot he gets when Cas offers to take him in, the bolt of desire travels down his body so fast he can’t stop the growl he lets out. He cock jerks at the thought of being deep inside his lover as the flush that may permanently stain his skin reaches further down his chest.</p><p>“Fuck yes,” Dean says, both an answer to Cas’ suggestion and his offer.</p><p>He hisses as Cas slips out, feeling so empty after being filled so perfectly. It's a shock to his system. Just as he settles onto his back he stops, putting a hand on Cas’ good shoulder.</p><p>“What about your shoulder? You can’t think you’re going to lift yourself on it,” Dean asks incredulously.</p><p>Castiel pauses, looming over him, left arm inches from hitting the bed beside Dean’s head. Dean can see the gears turning in his head as he works through the logistics.</p><p>Huffing fondly Dean stretches his legs around to open the space wider for Cas, he hooks his right leg high on Cas’ hip. Pulling Cas close, Dean hooks his left leg up and over his shoulder. Taking the cue, Cas lands on his right elbow, supporting much of his weight on his forearm while Dean supports the rest of his upper body on his thighs.</p><p>It’s not the most lustful or romantic thing he’s ever experienced but he’d take a flagging erection over Cas getting hurt any day, no question.</p><p>“Is this okay?” he asks Cas, trying to ignore the way his length rides the crease of his ass yet again.</p><p>“Perfect.” The word is said so reverently and with such a deep expression that Dean fights the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that Cas wasn’t answering his question at all.</p><p>Instead he raises an eyebrow and Cas who shakes himself a little before answering honestly, “Yes.”</p><p>Cas threads the fingers of his right hand through Dean’s left, holding it up above his head effectively pinning him down. Dean could break from the hold but he doesn’t, he revels in the position. Cas ducks his head kissing him soundly, devilishly, before sealing his lips over Dean’s pulse point and licking his way up to his ear, he pulls the lobe between his teeth, runs the tip of his tongue along the shell.</p><p>“You are the most sinful thing I have ever laid my eyes on, and yet you are the closest to heaven I’ve ever felt,” Cas whispers against the heated skin, the air cooling the path his tongue took.</p><p>The words make his heart sing and his chest fill with so much warmth that when the head of Cas’ cock teases his entrance a choked out sob fills the space between them.</p><p>“Please Cas,” he says as their eyes lock.</p><p>In a swift thrust Cas buries himself fully into Dean’s tight hole. They both groan loudly at the pleasure that surrounds them.</p><p>Cas starts up a brutal pace, pulling out almost all the way before slamming into him. Dean’s eyes roll back in his head as Cas grinds into his prostate every couple thrusts. The angle of their position spreads him open and his body lights up at the thought that he’s at Cas’ mercy; it does nothing but drive his pleasure higher.</p><p>Their mouths hover, open, inches apart, slotting their lips together seems an impossible task and so they gasp and pant heavily into the space between them, eyes roaming each other's face.</p><p>He tosses his head back a broken string of, “Mhm, ah ah, fuck yes, uhh please.” the only sounds he’s able to make and Cas latches on to the skin of his throat briefly, just long enough to sink his teeth in the smallest amount and a long keening whine rips itself from his lungs.</p><p>Cas pistons his hips laying deep hard thrusts into him spurred on by his pleasure addled response and then switches to grinding them in a circle when he’s balls deep. Dean can’t catch his breath, every moment he thinks he might be able to, it gets knocked from his chest again as Cas worships his body, his free hand roams as best it can, pinching his nipple, rubbing down the length of his bent thigh, coming to rest high on his throat applying the most delicious pressure to the vulnerable skin.</p><p>“<em>Ah</em> fuck, oh fuck Cas,” he grits out as Cas fucks him into oblivion.</p><p>He meets Cas’ every roll with one of his own, his hand hardly stops moving, gripping the bottom of Cas’ spine, raking down his back, threading into his hair, cupping the side of his face. His fingers squeeze against Cas’ where they are raised up above his head, Cas’ squeeze in response.</p><p>He’s ignored his own cock, too caught up in Cas, in making this moment last, but Cas’ knee shifts and their chests press completely against each other. With every movement his cock slides against their stomachs.</p><p>The fire stokes, stretches higher and higher. It licks from the base of his spine to his skull; it quiets everything that doesn't add to its raging. The coil in his groin tightens, with every move they make it comes closer to snapping, and yet somehow Cas keeps him right on the edge so it curls impossibly tighter still.</p><p>Cas reaches down between them but Dean stops him.</p><p>“‘M close, so close.”</p><p>Cas’ hips stutter with his admission and the brutal grind shoots sparks up his body.</p><p>“Gonna come on just my cock? God Dean you are perfect, so perfect for me.”</p><p>He nods fervently, whining with the praise, it’s cut off when Cas angles his hips, every thrust drives into his prostate without pause. Stars burst behind his eyes screwed shut with the immense pleasure coursing through his veins.</p><p>Closer and closer and closer, Cas grinds into him, he winds tighter, a bow taught and yet pulled still, driven to breaking.</p><p>Cas plants his hand against Dean’s throat again and runs his thumb down the column of his neck and the bow snaps. He groans as his release hits him like a bull, shattering him, slamming into him strong enough to knock the air from his lungs and he lays there, pleasure drowning him in waves as he struggles to even breathe. His vision whites out as his brain shuts off for a few seconds.</p><p>His spend shoots between them, coating their chests and stomachs in stripe after stripe.</p><p>Cas falters above him, groaning along with him.</p><p>“Dean, can I—where should I—fuck ‘m close,” Cas grinds out, holding on just a tiny bit more.</p><p>“Wanna feel you Cas, fill me, make me yours,” Dean all but slurs and Cas locks up above him.</p><p>“Mine,” Cas says with an awed growl, he buries himself to the hilt once more and Dean’s eyes roll back at the feeling of Cas’ come emptying deep inside him. He feels each pulse of his cock as Cas’ orgasm is milked from him and feels each kiss pressed to his hot skin.</p><p>Cas fucks him through his release and the pressure of overstimulation creeps into his body but there's nothing that would make him ask Cas to stop; not when his thrusts land perfectly on his fucked out prostate and cause spurts of come to dribble from his tip and milking him for all that he’s worth.</p><p>Everything glows as he opens his eyes once Cas slows his thrusts and his eyes finally stop rolling with the delirious pleasure that courses through him.</p><p>He peppers Cas’ neck and the side of his face with kiss after kiss. Cas drops his face suddenly, tired no doubt, and it smacks loudly into his collarbone, surprising a laugh from him before he can check if Cas is okay.</p><p>Cas grumbles good-naturedly as he turns his head towards Dean’s neck, he kisses and licks his way to Dean’s mouth before sealing their lips in a filthy kiss. He means for it to distract from him pulling out but it only somewhat works.</p><p>Dean hisses at the emptiness and the feeling of Cas’ come trying to leave him, but never stops kissing Cas back, it’s far too easy to get lost in the slick slide of their lips and tongues to pause for a bit of discomfort. Though he only gets a few more seconds before Cas pulls back with a concerned look draped across his face.</p><p>“Are you okay? Was I too rough?” he asks quickly, his eyes shooting all across his body looking for harm done.</p><p>“I’m good angel, it’s just been a while, forgot what it felt like,” Dean assures him, running a hand through his roughed up hair.</p><p>To make his point land with more certainty he moves, his leg drops from Cas’ waist and—though his hip grinds a bit—he extracts his other leg from its perch on his shoulder as Cas shuffles about to give him the room to do so. Cas slumps down, half on half off of him, once his leg is out in front of him.</p><p>They bask in the glow for some time, their breathing evening out again as the sweat cools on their skin. It’s quiet and peaceful and it makes his heart clench in his chest.</p><p>By some miracle he’s happy; free of fear and the stress of having everything be on him, be his to deal with.</p><p>His fingers dance along Cas’ shoulder and arm, and he smiles when Cas hums contentedly. Cas tongues and sucks small marks along the plain of his chest. Cas lets out a small noise as he licks the sweat from Dean’s skin. It’s not done to arouse, and so there's only one conclusion for Dean to come to.</p><p>“A little possessive huh Cas?” he says with a laugh.</p><p>“Sorry, and sorry uh, I got a little carried away earlier,” Cas replies sheepishly.</p><p>“Don’t be, it was unbelievably hot.”</p><p>“I’ve never known myself to be like that before,” Cas says with a small shake of his head.</p><p>Odd pride fills Dean’s chest at hearing that he’s the only one that’s gotten Cas that hot and bothered.</p><p>“No complaints from me.” He really means it, something about Cas wanting to claim him makes him believe that Cas wants to stick around for a while. It’s a promise for the future that neither have the guts to properly put a name to, but it’s there all the same.</p><p>He taps Cas’ shoulder gently, cautious of the injury, “I’ve got to go to the bathroom, gotta take care of—” he gestures vaguely about his lower body before they shift and Dean can roll out from their little concave bit of the bed.</p><p>He tries his best to not make a mess on his way to the wash closet and is, for the most part, successful. He makes quick work of cleaning himself up, perfunctory and really only about three-quarters of what he should be doing, but he’s eager to crawl back into bed, to burrow into the warmth of Castiel’s body, to relax into the softness of the moment.</p><p>Cas’ shirt lies near the doorway, crumpled up when he returns. He must have used it to clean up a bit. Both himself and the bed.</p><p>Cas is up and extinguishing lights around the room when he makes his way back. Dean stares freely at Cas’ still naked form as he leans against the doorframe. When he’s caught, Cas offers a smile and a lewd look at his own body in return.</p><p>He pushes off with a chuckle and pulls Cas back to their bed. The only light on is a sconce on the wall beside the bed, it casts the room into a yellow haze as they settle, his back to Cas’ chest, they ate through sunset, and now in the comforting silence of the room Dean can hear the telltale sounds of nighttime.</p><p>The crickets chirp accompanied by the drone of cicadas. Confused birds sing at the moon instead of the sun, though they have the right spirit. The air is free of human noise, everyone tucked away in their boarding.</p><p>The sounds and the silences that filter through the closed windows are broken only by Cas minutes later.</p><p>“I was thinking that I might talk to someone in town about finding a teaching position,” he whispers as though speaking the words aloud could shatter the dream before it even has a chance to live.</p><p>“That's a great idea angel, maybe name drop Jody, people in town seem to like her, or at least Ellen did,” he murmurs. He presses a soft kiss to the skin of Cas’ forearm.</p><p>He can feel Cas’ breath land gently on his shoulder and neck, can feel the rise and fall of his chest against his back. He can feel the nervous energy Cas radiates.</p><p>“You managed to teach me how to read and write well enough to sign contracts and scribe letters, don’t underestimate your abilities Cas, you’re capable of a hell of a lot more than you think,” he insists. “If you can get an adult to learn when at first he was beyond apprehensive of the entire idea, you can get kids to do the same.”</p><p>In lieu of an answer, Cas ducks his head and nestles against his spine and shoulder. He hears more than feels Cas kissing the skin he can reach.</p><p>He knows Cas isn’t going to flip from how he feels now with a few meaningful words but he thinks, any start is a good start.</p><p>It’s quiet for so long he thinks Cas must have fallen asleep and is well on his way to the same when Cas’ gruff voice rumbles against his back.</p><p>“What do you think tomorrow’ll bring?” he slurs, sleep colouring his voice just as Dean had thought.</p><p>“I don’t know, probably some horse shit for me,” he gets a one breath laugh, nearly a pity laugh but he takes it, before he switches gears. “Whatever it brings, I know that we’ll be able to handle it.”</p><p>He squirms out of Cas’ grip to turn out the sconce before tucking himself back into the warm cocoon of the bed. Cas’ steady breathing joins into the symphony of the pitch-black night, a soothing rhythm that he matches in no time.</p><p>Not even the softness of the mattress and pillow stop him from sleeping soundly again, and as he drifts off, he thinks that maybe the comfort isn't so bad after all.</p>
<hr/><p>Dean walks the few yards up to the door to The Roadhouse. Ash waves at him from across the way as he sends one last look at the newest horse in his charge—Impala—an odd name no doubt, but a beauty of all black save for the silver on her face; for some reason it fits.</p><p>He watches as Ash shoves his hair from his eyes, the fringe should have long grown out by now but he’d found that he quite enjoyed the short front of his hair, only now he gets it cut to the length he prefers instead of playing around with fire as he had the first time he ended up with the style.</p><p>Like always, Ellen shouts a greeting to him the second he gets a foot in the door. He saddles up to the bar and leans against it as he waits. Ellen's husband Bobby—a gruff man who hides a heart of gold under several layers of intimidating exterior (though the instant you see him with Ellen it’s clear as day that he’s far kinder than anyone would think)—pops out at the sound of his voice with a warm smile on his face and a story on his tongue.</p><p>He lets himself get swept up in the tale of his latest hunting trip and again tentatively accepts an offer to go out with the lot of them next time if his schedule allows it. It’s not that he’s overly busy on Jody’s ranch, in fact if he wanted, his job could be pretty hands off, but he loves his job because it’s hands on, why would he give that up simply because it wasn't required of him.</p><p>Both Benny and Jo make an appearance, the former to ask about his work and see if he wants something from the kitchen—a play to see if Dean’s in need of a distraction to switch the subject—the latter to see if a rescue is needed from her step-father.</p><p>It never fails to put a smile on his face when they attempt a rescue effort, Bobby is admirable and probably is encroaching on ‘better father than his father ever was’ territory—if he wasn’t already securely there—but the man can share stories until his <em>audience</em> is blue in the face.</p><p>He mulls about for some time, stopping by a few of the tables saying hello to those he knows. They've been here just shy of a year now, the first few months had been a struggle, Dean would get prickly when people pried too deeply into his past, Cas struggled to find his place and his purpose without a job, especially after having spent most of his life helping others, not doing so rubbed him the wrong way.</p><p>Slowly but surely things became routine, people became friends, this place became home.</p><p>Letters started showing up about three weeks after they arrived, Sam and Gabriel at first, but then Anael and Hannah, Balthazar and Inias had letters turning up all in envelopes from Gabriel. Cas had cried when he opened a letter only to discover Hannah’s beautiful writing hidden within a note from Gabriel.</p><p>If the paper of Sam’s first letter was anything to go by, receiving a letter from Dean, written by him, signed with his name, had brought him to tears. He’d insisted that he would travel up to the farm to see him, and no matter how much Dean feared for that reunion, there had been nothing to stop Sam, not that Dean had really wanted to stop him, he’d just worried what Sam would think of him, how Sam would react if Cas came up.</p><p>His worrying had been for nothing of course. The second they had seen each other it had been tight embraces and wide smiles. When Sam mentioned a woman named Jessica, Dean’s heart soared. When he told Dean of the work he’d been doing, there was nothing but pride in his chest.</p><p>When Sam called him Dean for the first time, he may or may not have teared up. It took a bit of getting used to for Sam to not just avoid using a non-name for Dean, but within that first lunch the name flowed freely anytime he had cause to use it.</p><p>Of course, the biggest source of Dean’s fear going into the reunion had been about Sam’s reaction about Cas.</p><p>Dean had mentioned him in his letter, how could he not. Sam would’ve certainly asked how the hell Dean managed to write a letter and it was just easier to come out with it before he had a chance to.</p><p>Dean and Cas had planned for Cas to stop in at the roadhouse just in time for the end of his and Sam’s lunch so that if the dice would fall in such a way that Sam became angry, they all had the ability to leave.</p><p>By the time Dean had gathered the courage to tell Sam outright, Cas had been about three minutes away, and he’d sweat right through his shirt.</p><p>Now when he looks back to that day, he can’t help but laugh. Sam’s deadpan expression when Dean had blurted it out nearly gave him a heart attack, the silence didn’t help either and Dean had been so ready to just bail on the whole thing when Sam smiled at him and said, “I know Dean, I’ve known for a while, or thought at least. You deserve to be happy and if Cas does so, then I’m glad.”</p><p>Dean won’t lie to himself; he did actually cry when Sam said that. Years of fear, years of keeping a part of himself from the one person on the earth that had stood by him in all things, and suddenly it was all okay.</p><p>He spots Victor as he walks through the dining area and waves him over.</p><p>“Afternoon Dean,” he greets. “Are you waiting for someone?”</p><p>“My brother is riding into town today,” Dean says. “He should be here soon.”</p><p>“Ah well, I won’t keep you, I hope you have a pleasant day,” Victor says as he begins to walk away, he stops and turns though. “I almost forgot; I’ll see you up at Jody’s later today.”</p><p>“Right around supper,” Dean replies with a smile and a wave as Victor heads on his way.</p><p>He turns back to his table just as Sam walks through the front door. A bright smile replaces the waning one from his and Victor’s conversation and he stands to pull his brother into a hug.</p><p>When he releases Sam, Dean gives him a once over, “Sammy I’m telling you, every time I see you, you seem to have grown again. No one needs to be that tall, no one.”</p><p>“Come off it Dean, it’s not like I'm doing anything to encourage it.” Sam shoves him off with an eye roll and a stubborn smile.</p><p>Dean watches, pleased, while he fights to get rid of it as they sit.</p><p>“I’ll believe that when you start shrinking.”</p><p>“So, in like fifty years?”</p><p>“If that’s as long as it takes, or here, new plan, I’ll believe that when you stop growing, you’re inches taller than I am man it doesn't make sense.” Jo catches his eye, a question of food or the like clear on her face but he shakes his head.</p><p>“What can I say, clearly I’m the favoured brother.”</p><p>“Ya right, favoured by who?”</p><p>Sam shoots him a pointed look before he moves off the topic, “So, Jess was talking the other day about maybe finding a place to go on a trip to, and I need your advice.”</p><p>“How’s that?”</p><p>“Well I uh—I want to ask her to marry me…” Sam says nervously.</p><p>“Sam, that's incredible, congratulations!” Dean’s about to stand to give his brother another hug and a couple slaps on the shoulder but Sam launches into a breathless explanation.</p><p>“But if she says yes, we’ll need to save for the wedding, and that means that I’ll have to work longer hours at the courthouse and we definitely couldn’t go on this trip but I don’t want to tip her off to it too much. I mean of course, we’ve talked about it but still, I’d like it to be as much of a surprise as it can be and if I have to say no to the trip she’s going to question it and I can’t lie to her, even keeping this from her is hard enough and I just—I don’t know what to do Dean,” Sam says quick enough to have Dean searching for air.</p><p>Dean sits stunned for a moment watching as Sam gets his heightened breathing under control again. When Sam seems like he’s not going to hyperventilate Dean figures it’s safe for him to speak.</p><p>“First of all, it’s <em>when</em> she says yes not if, second you might want to speed up whatever timeline you have on asking her, once she’s said yes, she’ll stop thinking about the trip. Hey! If you guys play it right, you can make the trip into your honeymoon instead of a stand-alone one.”</p><p>“Oh, I hadn’t thought about that…” Sam says distracted with the finer details of planning swirling around his head.</p><p>“Now that that's done, will you let me give my little brother a hug to cement this momentous occasion in his life, or are you going to work yourself into a frenzy all over again?”</p><p>Sam concedes with a roll of his eyes and ambles around the table as Dean stands.</p><p>“What's your plan for it?” he asks once they’re sitting again.</p><p>Sam goes a little red in the face, embarrassed by the no doubt grossly romantic scene he’s set up in his mind, “There’s a small park behind where we first met, just down from the courthouse. I was thinking that maybe I would take her there after her midwifery shift was over and propose.” He ends his plan as though it’s a question, unsure as to whether Dean is going to rib him for what he’s come up with.</p><p>“I think that’s a wonderful plan… just don’t go through with it if she had a tough day, make sure that the happy memory isn't backed by tragedy. Have you picked out a band yet?”</p><p>“Ya I got it about a week ago, right after I asked her father. I had little doubt that he would deny us allowance to marry but the assurance was still calming. The ring is simple, Jess said she wanted it that way and I got a chain with it for when she’s working so that it doesn’t get dirty,” Sam says excitedly.</p><p>Dean’s about to reply when he catches a glimpse of Victor leaving, Dean waves and he waves back before he ducks out of the door.</p><p>“Who’s that?” Sam asks, turned halfway towards the door watching the interaction.</p><p>“A friend, he’s helping me out with something later today.”</p><p>Sam pulls back confused and screws his face up, “Helping you with what?”</p><p> “I uh—I’m getting records today,” he says nervously.</p><p>“Records? Like records records? As in the same thing you got me so I could go to school?”</p><p>“Yes Sam, records.”</p><p>“But why? I mean you shut me down the instant I tried to bring it up as kids.”</p><p>“Ya well I didn’t exactly have anything to write down on them back then, did I?” he says in a minorly clipped tone.</p><p>“No I know that but, this past year, you’ve really seemed to move past the idea that you needed records to be someone.”</p><p>He gives his brother a small smile, “I have. Name or no name, records or no records, it doesn't matter.” He knows his past doesn't define him, he knows that even before he had his name he was ‘deserving of forgiveness for and to be absolved of the sins he still believes he committed’ in Cas’ words. Cas and the people he’d met here have been instrumental in him really learning that. “I know that they don’t change who I am, besides they're not for that, Jody mentioned that they’d help with more of the legal stuff on the farm so I agreed to get them,” he finishes.</p><p>There’s still a bit of an excited thrill in his chest about actually having documentation proving irrefutably that he is Dean Winchester, he likens it to the thrill of getting married even though you knew already that you would spend your life with that person at your side. Which he hopes Sam can understand considering he’s likely feeling this same thrill.</p><p>“Well I’m happy for you, does Cas know?”</p><p>“Yeah he was home when Jody came by to talk to me about it, he had his concerns, mostly the same ones as you, but he understood quickly.”</p><p>“Speaking of, shouldn't he be here by now?” Sam asks with a quick look around the room.</p><p>“He should be ya, he was just going to the post office.” Dean tries to quell the nerves that pick up. Cas is fully capable of taking care of himself but he hates it when there’s any chance that he’s not okay.</p><p>“I’m sure he’s fine; you’ve made an astounding number of friends here. He’s probably just being polite and talking with them,” Sam says knowing exactly how Dean gets when this happens.</p><p>“So tell me, did Cas get the position he wanted?” Sam asks after a couple of tense seconds.</p><p>Even through his nerves, his smile shows, “He did, he’s starting in just about a month in the younger room, he keeps saying that he wants to move up to the older room but that he needs to get comfortable before he tries it.” Cas had been in intense discussions with an administrator at the school in town, and after proving himself far more competent than their other prospective teachers he was offered the job, which he—with just the right amount of wait so as to not seem overzealous—accepted.</p><p>Dean really can’t remember a time that Cas had looked that excited about anything before.</p><p>The door of the roadhouse clatters open and, in an ever-present form of sound association, he thinks of the farm and of Cas coming out night after night. Opening their front door to sit and talk with him; making him fall little by little, making him start to believe all that he does now.</p><p>He looks up and by some chance Cas is walking right towards them, he seems to only have eyes for Dean, not registering Sam’s presence until he’s sat down. The back of their hands brush against each other intentionally, and Dean hooks his pinky with Cas’ just for the comfort.</p><p>“Sam hello, sorry about that, Pamela spotted me on my way over and was desperate to tell me that I would be fantastic in my new job,” Cas pauses with a small laugh. “I don't know why but whenever that woman promises anything, I can’t help but believe it.”</p><p>“Oh absolutely, it’s uncanny,” Dean responds.</p><p>“Pamela?” Sam asks confused as to who they are talking about.</p><p>“She works here a few nights a week, nabbed us out right the first time we came in while she was working, scared the living daylights out of the both of us but she assured that no one had her eye for that kind of thing. Then oddly about an hour later she started propositioning me, so go figure,” Dean explains.</p><p>Cas bristles a little beside him at the memory, but Dean’s cheeks heat marginally remembering what happened after they got home that night. Turns out that both of their possessive streaks go a bit deeper than either had thought.</p><p>It hasn’t been the easiest to have to keep that part of them silent for the most part here. Up at Jody’s, it’s fine, but in town, there are too many eyes, they both know that, but it doesn't make it any easier.</p><p>“Well then,” Sam says breaking them both from their thoughts.</p><p>“Yes, it was quite the experience, but luckily it hasn’t happened since, well it hasn't happened much since.” Cas knocks their hands together and a thrill runs through him when Cas places his hand on his leg beneath the table, a claim that only they know about, yet still it's enough to settle them both.</p><p>“So Sam what's new with you,” Cas asks, his thumb rubs gently against his thigh and the touch is so grounding he can almost feel his chest glow with the security he feels.</p><p>“Sam’s getting married,” he says before Sam has a chance to even open his mouth.</p><p>“Oh congratulations! That’s very exciting.”</p><p>“It is thank you, we’ve not been together long, just about a year now, but sometimes when you know you know.”</p><p>He sees Cas steal a glance at him from the corner of his eye before he responds, “Yes, I suppose you do.” in a wistful voice.</p><p>Dean feels his cheeks go crimson with the implication but doesn’t try to hide it.</p><p>He notices for the first time the letter bundle that Cas has with him, the writing is too fancy for him to be able to read from this distance as he asks about it, “Are those letters from Gabriel?”</p><p>“Ah yes, I’m sure the post workers are tired of sorting mail for me as this was the fifth letter this week but this one is from Inias. Well really it’s from Anael and is sent by Gabriel, but Inias asked for the letter to be written.” The whole chain of ownership to get a letter from the farm out here makes his head hurt with its layers but it’s more than worth it to see that dopey smile on Cas’ face whenever one comes in. “It’s a drawing this time, which Anael says is apparently me, Dean, and Inias from that day on the farm where she came over and then we eventually went and spent some time with everyone. And if I'm not mistaken, that right there is Ringer.” Cas turns the pictures around and Dean can see the shapes of people and just behind them an odd blob with four legs and a tail that is clearly meant to be their old horse.</p><p>“Tell her we’ll frame it,” Dean pipes up with a goofy grin.</p><p>“You want me to lie to my little sister?”</p><p>“Ooh okay maybe don’t, tell her we’re gonna keep it with the others,” he concedes.</p><p>Cas sends him a scathing look that falls so far short of its mark he almost laughs out loud.</p><p>“What’s the rest of the letters say?” Dean asks.</p><p>Cas flips a few pages around trying to find the good parts.</p><p>“Gabriel says that he hopes to visit again soon, and that ah! Kali is pregnant again and they want to get the travelling done before she gets too late into the pregnancy because and I quote, ‘as much as she loved seeing all of you, she was about ready to kill me by the time we returned home’. He’s going to be picking up Hannah and Uriel and whoever else wants to come along too. I can only imagine what their journey will be like,” Cas says with a laugh.</p><p>In the year that they’d been here, Gabriel had taken it upon himself to ensure that Cas and his siblings got a chance to see each other still, always bringing a couple along with him when he had cause to make his way out to them. The look of joy on Cas’ face when he gets to see his siblings is enough to light up the earth.</p><p>Cas rifles through some more before saying, “Anael says that she’s looking into midwifery or nursing before she looks to find a husband and Alfie just lost his third tooth and, according to Balthazar, looks quite lopsided when he smiles.”</p><p>The last one makes Cas choke up a bit, Dean knows how hard it’s been to be away for all of these milestones his siblings are still having even with the letters and the visits, it’s not the same as being there as Anna begins to read novels on her own or when Hannah begins embroidery to better her skills in anticipation of becoming a seamstress.</p><p>He grips Cas’ thigh comfortingly under the table, just a sign that he is there, that Cas has his support, and he’s given a watery smile in return.</p><p>Sam spends a bit asking for clarification on which of Cas’ siblings are which, and honestly, Dean can’t blame him, with thirteen siblings it’s not easy keeping them straight in your head.</p><p>Cas mentions something about a baby all the while perking up out of the melancholy he was in before and when an opening can be found Dean cuts in to ask, “Did you get a look at Impala before you joined us?”</p><p>Cas sends him an unimpressed look but relents without a fight, “I got the barest glimpse of her, but I was already running late and I know how you worry.”</p><p>Dean's mouth turns down with petulance but there's no argument to be had, everyone here knows that it’s true.</p><p>“Sam I swear, I think he cares more about that horse than he does about me.” Dean’s about to protest but Cas doesn’t lose speed. “He calls her baby constantly, to a degree that I often wonder if he’s forgotten her name.”</p><p>“She’s a baby, Cas! She’s not even a year old yet,” he defends.</p><p>“Dean used to nickname the guns he’d find and grab up, always based on the maker but still it was ridiculous,” Sam offers traitorously.</p><p>Cas bursts out laughing at that, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut, smile gummy as all hell. And as it does every time, that smile steals Dean’s breath right from his chest.</p><p>The two of them start to go back and forth with each other about Dean to start, but then they switch and talk about law and teaching and plants and all manners of things, and Dean sits back, content to watch them bond even more.</p><p>Hunger strikes him soon enough. Jo passes behind the bar in a flash, far too quick for him to be able to grab her, so he waits ready for when she’s not so busy. He waves Jo over once he catches her eye, ordering a round and some food and spends the afternoon eating, drinking, and laughing with his two favourite people.</p>
<hr/><p>The day’s cooled down by the time Dean finds himself on the porch bench. A bee zooms in between the flowers along the railing line and the gentle hum just barely reaches his ears. Their barn cat perks up at the bee but leaves it alone, her head falls back onto the wood flooring, paws tucked up at her chin.</p><p>He can't help but think in these moments how different his life is now than it was a year and a half ago. Can’t help but think what would have become of him if he hadn’t allowed Cas to become his friend that first week on his parent’s farm.</p><p>He’d always left his past behind him, hoping each time that it would stay there—though it never actually did—but he’d never learned to <em>move on</em> from it, he was always stuck in his ways and with each move—be it place to place when they’d been run out of wherever they’d been sleeping or the bigger moves where people knew nothing of him—he’d forget bit by bit that he wasn’t always like that. He forgot until there was no part of his mind that could remember.</p><p>But then Cas showed up, and under no obligation to Dean, was ready with a smile, a story, a friendship, and little by little he remembered.</p><p>He knows he’s different now, his past isn't just behind him, but he’s taken its lessons and trials and hardships to heart yet no longer falls into the trap of them. He’ll never forget, some things will haunt him for the rest of his life but he’s moved on from it, and it’s like the first breeze you feel in the mornings a birth of a new day, a birth of a new life.</p><p>“Someone’s looking awfully introspective tonight,” Cas says humorously. He can’t even remember hearing the door open so there's no glib comment he can make, not that Cas expects a reply either way.</p><p>The bench shifts with his added weight, it's a familiar feeling, part of a routine Dean never could have imagined for himself.</p><p>“Are you regretting it?” Cas asks after a few minutes of silence.</p><p>They both look out at the land in front of them, even though Cas asked him something, he doesn’t turn towards Dean, unspoken agreements to not pressure the other if a question wants to go unanswered.</p><p>“I’m not, I don’t even feel different after it. I kinda always thought I would, y’know years ago when I let myself dream that it might happen.”</p><p>“Did you want to feel different?” he asks. His hand comes up to hold Dean’s, he’ll never understand why such a simple gesture causes such a reaction in him.</p><p>“I don’t think so…” Dean stops for a second, grappling with it all. “I knew who I was before I signed those papers, but there's a part of me that says I should feel new. That this marks the start of my new life, but I don’t feel like it does.”</p><p>“What do you think marks that start if it isn't this?”</p><p>Dean releases a short laugh, “Honestly, the morning I left town and ended up on your parent's farm. Before that, I thought I knew who I was, but I was wrong. Not a moment of my life has been the same as it was since I relented to the needs of my body and walked onto your property hoping for hospitality.”</p><p>Cas doesn’t say anything but he does pull his hand up to his mouth and lays soft kisses along the line of scars on his knuckles. It might not even be intentional, if you are going to kiss someone's hand it's always in that one spot, Dean just happens to have a lot of scars in that same space, and yet regardless of that, watching Cas show affection to an area that so many others have done their best to avoid cracks his chest open in the best way.</p><p>After some time, in which they simply sat with each other, Beam—named for exactly where she’d been perched when they found her in the barn—purring at Dean’s side where she's now curled up enjoying the quiet and company, Dean’s stomach starts to growl. Cas looks at him sideways, an amused smile playing at his lips and Dean shoves him a bit with his shoulder.</p><p>“We had supper a few hours ago at most, how could you possibly be that hungry again?”</p><p>“You know I like your cooking more than the stuff at the main building, I didn’t eat much up there because it’s not as good as when you make supper.”</p><p>“I make supper almost every night, could you not have minorly suffered through a meal so that you didn’t end up hungry before sundown?”</p><p>“No,” Dean tosses back with a smile.</p><p>Cas rolls his eyes at him but relents, “Okay what do you want?”</p><p>Dean just gives him a look and Cas groans, “Pie really? That's what you want.”</p><p>“Hey, hey! I’m a legal man now, you’re looking at Dean Winchester, slightly fibbed birth record, documents in a courthouse and all that good stuff, I think this calls for pie, no?”</p><p>He knows Cas will give in; it doesn't matter that they both know that really for Dean this isn't a cause for celebration.</p><p>Cas looks at him and he puts on his prettiest face, bats his eyelashes a bit like he used to do, and waits for Cas to break. It happens with a heavily put upon sigh and some grumbling from Cas as he makes his way back into the house to get the pastry.</p><p>He waits for Cas to come back in the silence of the evening, thinks of how lucky he was stumbling into that farm, making friends with their son, starting over without knowing he was doing so.</p><p>It dawns on him that he’ll have a name on his grave when his time comes, and he doesn't know why that’s suddenly so huge for him, but in a hundred years someone could cross paths with his grave and instead of it being an unmarked stone, or not even acknowledged, the grass long grown over the churned up dirt, they’ll be able to make a story from it, make him into anything they can think of. He’ll live on after his death, and even if it’s wrong in the end, he’ll be remembered.</p><p>He hears the door this time and blinks the tears he hadn’t known had started collecting in his eyes away before Cas can get concerned.</p><p>“You’re too good to me Cas,” he says with a wide smile.</p><p>“Yes well, you’re lucky I love you or you wouldn't get away with half as much as you do now.”</p><p>It had scared him for some time, when Cas would tell Dean he loved him, a fear set so deep within him he didn't know it existed until Cas spoke those words for the first time. It shocks him still how casually Cas says that as though the act of doing so, of loving him, is as easy as breathing.</p><p>He knows how fond his expression must be by now but he has no want to do away with it. And though there are so many things he could comment on instead, he finds himself saying, “I love you too.” It doesn't scare him anymore, it’s second nature by this point, it’s as sure as anything, it’s carved into his bones and he wouldn't want it any other way.</p><p>The sun dips low, brushing against the horizon just as Cas’ fingers brush against his thigh, the same warmth fills him from both, the same awe fills him as he sits and takes it in.</p><p>“Were any of those letters today from Kelly?” Dean asks. Months ago, through a dizzying letter chain with a few of his siblings, they’d been able to find the woman and her child, the child that Lucifer had in fact fathered. After that they began sending letters to one another, planning to meet and sharing details about each other and their families. Jack, Cas’ nephew, is a year away from starting school and is, without a doubt, one of the cutest children Dean has ever met.</p><p>“Sadly no, I imagine hers will arrive next week at the latest though,” Cas responds calmly before tucking into his slice of pie.</p><p>They eat in the quiet hum of dusk. It’s been a long time since he’s been uncomfortable in silence, he used to be on alert for every noise, his skin would crawl with the expectations of politeness when he was around others, but he never feels that now, not alone and not with Cas at his side.</p><p>“You know,” Cas says a little while later. “You showing up on our farm was the start of my new life too. I was drifting, I knew that I didn’t want what my parents wanted of me but I never truly saw a way to avoid it. I’d dreamed of course, of how it might happen but I had almost completely resigned myself to giving in. That is until you came into my life, I remember those first days, weeks even, I knew that if you looked hard enough, you’d see right through me. Something about you, the stories you told me, the way you let me in, it had me hooked so quickly that there was no way I could have stopped it if I'd wanted to. I looked at you and saw all that my life could be, if I was brave enough, bold enough, to go after it.” Cas gives him a self-satisfied look. “And so I did.”</p><p>“I’m glad you did,” he says in answer, too much and too little coming to his mind to form anything more eloquent than that.</p><p>Cas already knows that Dean would have stayed on the farm had he asked, he already knows that he’s the only person since Sam that Dean would give anything up for. He already knows that Dean is prepared to do anything to keep him safe, the fear that took residence in his heart regarding Cas getting hurt never fully left, will never fully leave either.</p><p>His jaw clicks loudly in his head as he yawns, remnants of a terrifying afternoon so many months ago. It's not the only reminder, Cas’ shoulder creaks when the weather shifts, the scar pulls tight against itself and the muscles protest each movement. Dean spends hours sometimes making the pain go away however he can.</p><p>His own body is a map of scars, dips and valleys, memories played out upon his flesh. His shoulder pains him when a storm is ready to descend upon them, the joint flares in its socket as though it longs to pop out again. Phantom pain lances him through all parts of his once broken body, often when he least expects it. The body remembering pain more so than the mind does. Cas takes the time to soothe it until it quiets again.</p><p>They fight like mad when the pain is too much, both physical and emotional, just as those on their bodies, the scars from past transgressions never leave, though they become unnoticeable for stretches so long they are forgotten about. They work through it, Dean takes care not to shut down, Cas takes care not to push his own issues aside as he so often had.</p><p>He knows nothing of what the future might hold for them. He sits and thinks about the people who’ve welcomed him, making them part of a family of sorts. Cas doesn't interrupt his thoughts, he sits, a constant presence of comfort at Dean’s side, and it means more than he could ever say.</p><p>He used to only think of the valley they’d live in for the longest time as home, as the only place that had any memory of happiness or any feeling of being marginally safe. He’d laugh at his childhood self now for thinking that it was the best they could get; tell him all the ways it would get better. The valley is a bittersweet memory at best now and he couldn’t be happier about that.</p><p>They retire once the sun returns to its home behind the horizon, ushering Beam in with them. Dean rests his head on Cas’ shoulder, Cas presses a gentle kiss onto his forehead and he smiles as they walk inside. The gentle jostling soothes him and part of him wants to close his eyes and fall into the feeling, he doesn’t though, content instead to fall into the warmth of their home as it envelops him again.</p><p>He’s happy now, safe now. He’s <em>home</em> now. Let come what must, he knows that will never change.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Did I give them a sappy, cliche, and all around fluff filled ending? Yes. Did they deserve an ending like that after everything? Absolutely.</p><p>This chapter wasn't supposed to be a test to see how many Supernatural characters I could fit into several thousand words without it being a damn rollcall, but it ended up being exactly that, so uh oops??</p><p>Sam and Gabriel are resoundingly steady in the 'simp for' category as per the tag, and of course, I had to give them a loving and large found family because I love the trope.</p><p>If you'd like you can find me on tumblr <a href="https://wayward-angels-club.tumblr.com/">here</a>.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And with that, our story comes to an end.</p><p>Thank you for reading! It means more to me than you could know.</p><p>You can view the incredible art that <a href="https://unanimous-anonymous.tumblr.com/">unanimous-anonymous</a> made for my DCBB fic on tumblr <a href="https://unanimous-anonymous.tumblr.com/post/635897906750177280/okay-yall-after-a-long-and-arduous-process">here</a> as well.</p><p>I started writing this story in May of 2020 so it's been my quarantine companion for six months, it kind of kept me sane while we all got used to the new reality of the world we lived in. No matter what was happening around me I knew that I could open my laptop and slip into this world and I am so beyond thankful that I was able to do that literally every day. I'm sad to see it come to a close but I am so grateful I had the time and ability to write it.</p><p>If you are in the market for a similar fic that is rife with mystery and is a bit darker but a thousand times better than mine I fully recommend going and reading Lucy's fic <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27214666/chapters/66477973">found here</a> and sending <a href="https://universalsatan.tumblr.com/">her</a> and her <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artmetica/pseuds/Artmetica">artist</a> some love on their incredible work.</p><p>Again I want to give a huge thank you to everyone who helped with this story or even just let me talk about it when I felt I needed to get some of the excitement out. And I want to send a <em>massive</em> thank you to the mods who worked tirelessly to put this on this year, not to mention the immense help they gave me as I wrote and got ready to publish. Literally none of this would exist without their incredible work and dedication so hats off to all of you.</p><p>This was my first ever Bang so it was a huge learning curve for me that I am beyond grateful I was able to experience.</p><p>Until next time!!</p><p>Much love ❤️</p></blockquote></div></div>
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